Via Crucis
by Dr. Phoenix
Summary: Simon Peter's point of view about his life, including his time as a disciple of Jesus. Please remember that no one is forcing you to read this story, so if you don't like it, you are free to ignore it all you wish. Please be mature enough not to waste your time and mine with hate mail and flames.
1. Chapter 1

"I don't want to take a nap!" I protested.

My mother hid an impatient sigh, her hand lightly resting on her swollen waist. "Please don't argue, Shimown. You're a growing boy, and children must learn that there is a time to play and a time to rest."

Emmi was beginning to move slowly, no doubt because her ankles had swollen to three times their normal size. She frequently fell ill, unable to keep food in her stomach, but since she ate the strangest mixtures of food, I was hardly surprised. She looked as if her weight had more than doubled, but perhaps not. She always did claim I was prone to exaggeration.

Sulking, I lay down on the bed I shared with my brother, for my family was too poor to allow us the luxury of separate rooms. It wasn't fair being so young! I had to stay home all day and content myself with playing outdoors or helping Emmi with the housework, for despite her growing size, she seemed to be weakening by the day, unable to do the simplest task without moaning in pain or falling asleep.

"Are you already asleep, Achina?" I queried.

He groaned. "I almost was until you came in the room!" As an afterthought, he added, "And I told you to call me Andreas! If I'm going to be a man of business, I need a Greek name!"

I sighed in disgust. "Man of business? You've got nearly a decade before you grow a beard!"

I didn't know what a decade was, but I was proud of myself for repeating what Abayi had often told him.

My brother used to be my dearest friend. Emmi always claimed that Achina liked to hold me when I was a baby. When I became old enough to walk, Achina would take me for walks in the garden to see the flowers and the birds.

However, he had never tolerated any of my foolishness. When I cried for no apparent reason, he would stand akimbo and scold me. At first, Emmi and Abayi tried to talk some sense into us both, telling us to treat each other kindly, but as the years passed, they realized it was a lost cause.

Achina had saved my life once. I was gaining independence, but in addition to being fussy, I had always been impetuous. Years before I was ready to do so, I decided the time had come to climb my first tree. I screamed until Achina relented and lifted me to the lowest branch.

"Be careful, Shimown!" he warned. "Sit very still."

Pretending not to hear him, I grabbed the nearest branch. It was so close that I could fit my tiny hand around it and easily step onto it. The next branch was also close enough for me to pull myself up.

Realizing he had made the biggest mistake of his life, Achina hurried up the tree after me. Having longer limbs due to our difference in age, he soon reached the branch where I was resting.

"No higher!" he scolded. "Abayi will punish us both!"

Once again, I chose to ignore my brother, and I reached for the nearest branch. It looked so close, but this time, I misjudged the distance and fell. I remember the fear that I was going to tumble to the ground and hurt myself. Looking back, I realize I easily could have broken my neck.

I started crying, but Achina's quick reaction saved me. He caught my ankles as soon as I began to slip.

"I've got you, Shimown!" he exclaimed.

I was still crying because I was afraid. Although my brother had a strong grip on my ankles, I was dangling from a tree with my head toward the ground. I didn't care for the experience at all. Not only was it frightening, but it hurt terribly to have my entire weight supported that way.

Achina was trying to work his way to my knee as carefully as he could. He didn't want to let go of me, but he couldn't sit in a tree all day and hold me upside down as my blood rushed to my head. He had to get a better grip.

"Don't you kick me!" he ordered. "I know it hurts, Shimown, but you can't kick!"

It was so hard not to kick! I was afraid and in great pain, and as my brother got closer to my knee, my feet dangled strangely in the air. With a strong pull, he accidentally scraped the backs of my legs against the tree.

"Your knees are over the branch now," he told me. "I need you to bend your knees very tightly over it. Get a good, strong grip."

I usually got into a heated argument with my brother when he tried to boss me around, but this was one of the few times in my life when I wasn't up for a fight. I actually did as my brother said. I would have obeyed anyone who could get me out of the tree.

"I'm going to let go of one of your knees now."

"No!" I shrieked. "You'll drop me!"

Achina ignored me. "When I do, I need you to grab my hand. I'm going to count to _tlata_ , and when I do, you grab my hand."

"No!"

" _Chad…treyn…tlata!_ "

With a frightened shriek, I reached up desperately, surprised to catch my brother's hand. Achina gave a quick, strong pull, and I was sitting on the branch beside him.

"Don't you frighten me like that!" he scolded. "Don't ever do anything this stupid again! Do you hear me?"

I heard him, but I couldn't help myself. It seemed my nature to be a headstrong fool.

A few days after I had climbed my first tree, I found a knife in the kitchen. Emmi had always told me not to touch it, but she had gone to the well for water. What if I just touched the handle?

I tentatively reached out and tapped it. Seeing that nothing bad happened, I picked up the knife. Maybe I could just cut one leek, just the tiniest slice.

Before I had a chance, Emmi returned from the well and snatched the knife out of my hand, which she then slapped, reminding me that I could have hurt myself, or even another person.

Afterwards, my brother whispered, "I never played with knives. Emmi and Abayi knew they could trust me!"

Despite always having a lecture prepared at a moment's notice, Achina was a wonderful companion. We would play together for hours. When he got old enough that Emmi started making him help with housework, my brother still found time for me between chores.

Everything had changed when the day arrived that Achina was old enough to go fishing with Abayi. I rarely saw my brother, for when he was home, he slept most of the day. When he was awake, he was usually in a bad mood.

"You mustn't blame him," Emmi often reminded me. "Your father has him working very hard."

"How hard could fishing possibly be?" I demanded. "You sit out in a boat under the stars, throw your net in the water, and pull up a fish! It's not advanced mathematics!"

Emmi simply rubbed the sides of her head, as if trying to relieve a migraine. "Please don't argue, Shimown. You'll understand someday."


	2. Chapter 2

Not all water is the same. One of the first lessons I learned as a fisherman's son is that different bodies of water have different qualities. For example, the saltiness of the ocean makes floating easy, but huge waves can easily carry a swimmer away from the beach and trap the person at sea.

Kinneret, a very large lake, was made at such a low point on Earth that the water felt heavy, and there was no salt to help anyone float. Swimmers tired easily, and as if the risk weren't great enough, the surrounding mountains made the lake infamous for frequent bouts of violent storms that came from out of nowhere.

"Never go without an adult!" Abayi sternly warned. "Even grown men will not go out on Kinneret alone!"

Although the warnings were repeated frequently from an early age, there were still times when it was easy to forget. Most of the time, it was harmless enough. I would follow Achina on an errand to the market, and on the way, we would walk near the shore and take off our sandals and hold up the hems of our garments, for if they touched water, the stain would proclaim our sin when we arrived home.

Abayi was a reasonable man. He never used corporeal punishment out of anger, for he believed such behavior bred violence, nor did he ever strike hard enough to leave a mark. Indeed, it was strictly as a last resort used for repeated or serious offenses. However, my father also believed that part of taking responsibility for our own actions was to realize that the wrong we do often leads to painful consequences, and when he felt it necessary, he would illustrate this lesson in a very literal sense.

When we were finally certain our misdeeds would never be discovered, Achina and I would walk where the smallest parts of the waves caressed the sand. The cool water felt wonderful under our feet, a welcome relief from the heat of the day. I loved the feeling of waves lapping the soles of my sandals.

Our parents probably wouldn't have minded the fact that we stepped only on such shallow waves. They just wanted to be sure we were able to resist the temptation to go swimming. Achina and I held each other accountable.

However, now that my brother was old enough to go fishing with Abayi, he napped while I ran errands for Emmi. I walked through the waves against the sand, but somehow, it wasn't the same.

"Hot, isn't it?"

Startled by the unexpected voice, I turned to see another boy.

"I'm going swimming!" he announced, doffing his garments.

"What about your parents?" I asked. "Won't your father punish you?"

He ran splashing through the shallows, pausing only when the water was up to his waist. "How's he going to find out? I can come back to shore any time I want, and my clothes will be dry!"

He did use sound logic. I was so bored without my brother, and what harm would it do just to wade in the water? Following suit, I removed my garments and ran into the welcoming coolness of Kinneret.

"Why are you alone?" I asked. "Have you no brothers to swim with you?"

The other boy sighed. "Yaaqov is playing with our cousin."

"Wouldn't your cousin like to swim with us too?"

He shook his head sadly. "Yehowshuwa never does anything adventurous!"

Not until years later would we both realize how wrong his statement was, but of course, neither of us had any way of knowing the future.

"Every time Uncle Yowceph and Aunt Miryam visit, we have to play nicely with our cousins," the boy explained. "Yehowshuwa never wants to throw rocks at birds or do impressions of people we saw at the market or eat a handful of sweets before dinner."

"That must be incredibly frustrating," I agreed.

He changed the subject. "I am called Yowchanan."

"I am Shimown." I sighed. "I hate my name. People try to call me Simon. They say it sounds more Greek, but what's wrong with having a Hebrew name?"

Yowchanan shrugged. "If you don't like your name, why don't you change it?"

"To what?"

"Something will come to you." He scanned the area around us. "Think you could swim out to that boulder over there?

Of course I didn't. It was a good hundred cubits out. However, I wasn't going to let this stranger get the best of me.

"Naturally!" I exclaimed. "I'll race you!"

At first it was exciting, but we soon began to tire. Neither of us would yield to the other or concede defeat, but gradually, we were beginning to slow. I heard Yowchanan panting for breath, and I knew he couldn't last much longer.

I wasn't doing well either. The water became heavier and heavier, just as Abayi had warned. My muscles tired, and I was too far from shore to turn back. The boulder was still too far out of reach.

I knew then that I was going to drown. Never before had I felt such great terror. I would choke beneath the pounding waves, lightheaded as I faded into blackness, unable to struggle free or cry for help.

My fear kept me moving. One dreadful stroke at a time, I crawled forward, trying to ignore the helpless look on my new friend's face that told me he too realized how our sorry predicament would end, made even worse by the knowledge that it was our own fault.

Out of nowhere, a boat arrived. Seeing two struggling little boys in the water, someone on the beach had rowed out to where we were swimming. Although my parents had taught me never to trust strangers, I was certain they would make an exception now.

The man said nothing as he helped us onto his boat. Judging from his stern glare, Yowchanan and I thought it best not to say anything other than politely thanking him for saving us. We also offered an apology for our foolishness.

When I returned home, Abayi was waiting with his arms crossed. "How's the water, son?"

"What do you mean?" I queried.

"Your mother sent you to the market over two hours ago, and you've returned without the needed items! I went looking for you, and the whole town was already gossiping about the two boys who almost drowned! I saw your robe and sandals on the beach!"

"That wasn't me!" I replied.

Abayi sighed. "You know how I feel about lying, Shimown."

"But I tell you, I was not swimming!"

He motioned me forward. Despite my great care not to get water on my garments, my collar was wet from the drops that had fallen from my hair.

"You can't deny everything just because you get in trouble," Abayi stated. "It makes your friends unable to trust you ever again because they know you're disloyal."

My father had nothing more to say with his lips about the matter, but he had cut a slender, flexible rod from a tree that had a few things to tell me. I was punished not only for my disobedience, but also for my dishonesty. I did not live in fear of my father; I knew I deserved this punishment for my behavior, and it was better to learn life's harshest lessons from Abayi than to appear before the Sanhedrin later in life and be sentenced to a real flogging, but sadly, it would be many years before I finally broke my habit of denying everything when confronted.


	3. Chapter 3

"Get ready, Shimown," my mother instructed. "Your father believes you're old enough to join him."

I was so excited that I could barely keep still. Emmi kept reminding me to do as Abayi said at all times, and I should keep warm and try to stay dry. I mustn't play when there was work to be done.

As I followed Abayi and Achina to the beach, I asked every question that crossed my mind. What kept people from stealing our boat when we weren't on it? What happened if we caught the wrong kind of fish? If we caught an unclean fish, did it make our entire boat unclean? How did we know when we needed to fish again? How did we keep from getting lost since we were sailing at night? Since I was fishing, did that mean I was a man now, and I could start growing a beard tomorrow?

Abayi patiently answered as many of my questions as he could, but he looked as if he were already exhausted, even though we hadn't even left yet. I clapped my hands together in delight when I boarded my father's boat for the first time.

In the gray light just after sunset, the stars were beginning to come out. Abayi often told about the night two stars stood one in front of the other, shining as one great star, but the event had happened before I was born.

As we began to set sail, my excitement began to diminish. The rocking on the waves churned my stomach, and I lost everything I had eaten that evening, much to my brother's delight.

"You're a great fisherman already!" Achina jeered.

I ordinarily would have given him one of my sharpest retorts, but I was too ill.

"It happens to many people," Abayi consoled. "You'll get used to it."

I hoped so. Even now that I had nothing left to cast out of my stomach, my body was still retching.

"Look at the horizon," my father advised. "Look at the changing colors and the stars. Don't look at the water. Turn your head every few moments."

While I concentrated on feeling better, Achina helped Abayi inspect the nets a final time. I wondered why the night sky was sometimes a shade of blue, but other times, it was the deepest black. I could see the outline of another boat in the distance, and I remembered what Abayi said about how even grown men would never risk sailing on Kinneret alone.

"Are there any fish that could swallow us like Yonah?" I queried aloud.

I don't remember lying down, and I certainly hadn't intended to fall asleep, but the next thing I knew, Abayi was panting with effort as a net full of fish lay on the deck of our boat.

"Why are they flopping around? Are they still trying to swim?" I walked over and poked one. "They're cold and squishy! Why are they staring? Do they ever blink? Why does this one have its mouth open?"

A strange creature scuttled out of the net. It had wide eyes on top of its head, legs at the side of its body, and two strange hands.

"Don't touch it, Shimown!" Achina warned. "It's an unclean animal."

As always, I paid no heed to my brother. I reached out to pat the strange beast, which promptly seized my finger in one of its hands. I screamed in pain. The creature was pinching me so hard that it had broken skin. By the time Abayi pried it off, I was sobbing, no longer caring if it was unfitting for a boy my age to cry like a baby.

"Many times, we don't know the reason for God's commands," my father remarked, "but Shimown has just demonstrated why we are told not to touch crabs."

"Do all unclean animals hurt people?" I asked.

"Some bite. Others carry diseases."

I wiped away some of my tears. "Do fish hurt people?"

"Some can, but the ones in Kinneret are usually safe."

I pouted and put my finger in my mouth in an unsuccessful attempt to ease the pain. The fish were beginning to settle down as well. Instead of flopping around wildly, they were lying still between bouts of movement that only lasted a few moments each time.

"Good night, fish!" I exclaimed.

Achina laughed.

"Do we need to cover them to keep them warm while they sleep?"

My brother sank to his knees helplessly, rocking back and forth as tears of laughter streaked down his face.

"Fish live in the water," my father reminded me. "They don't like blankets like humans do."

"Will they get too dry if we leave them in the boat?" I asked. "Does it hurt the fish on the bottom to have all those other fish lying on top of them?"

"They don't feel pain anymore."

"I'm glad." I touched another fish. "This one doesn't seem to be breathing!"

"Fish breathe differently than we do."

"So it won't die?"

Achina sighed. "Shimown, when people cook fish, where do they get it?"

"From the market!" I answered.

"And who brings it there?"

"Fishermen."

"And where do the fishermen get it?"

"From the water!" I felt proud of myself for being smart enough to answer my brother's questions correctly.

"Is the fish still alive when it gets cooked?"

I suddenly realized what he was saying. "You mean the fish die when we catch them?"

"What did you think they were going to do, live forever as our pets?"

My father tried to comfort me by explaining it was the way of the world. Since Adam and Chawwah had sinned, all of life had been cursed with death. All humans would die. All animals would die. Even all plants would die. Many times, one life would come at another's expense. A hare might eat a plant, but the same hare would be eaten by an eagle.

I understood, but I was beginning to feel tired again, so I stretched out on the net full of dead fish and let the waves beneath the boat gently rock me to sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

As a child, days seem to stretch forever. I never thought I would ever reach adulthood, but when I became a man of nearly twenty years, I wondered how the time had passed so quickly.

Achina and I often fished together, but Abayi still insisted on coming with us, even though his hair showed its first streaks of silver.

We were often joined by Yowchanan and Yaaqov, our childhood friends. We were fairly successful fishermen, and although the work was hard, I enjoyed the waves lapping at the boats beneath the starlight and watching the sun come up as I repaired my net on the beach. It was easy to forget how dangerous Kinneret truly was.

One night as we were fishing, clouds began to cover the stars.

"I don't like this at all," Abayi remarked. "Let's row back."

Yaaqov and Yowchanan followed our lead, rowing behind us in their own boat. To be honest, their father's hired men most likely did the rowing, but our friends were hard workers in their own way.

The water became choppy as the wind grew more fearsome. As the rush of wind turned from a sigh to a shriek and the crashing waves became as loud as the thunder, the boats began rocking. First the bow would point to the darkened sky; then the stern would raise itself as the bow plummeted toward the depths of the watery abyss.

A massive wave slammed into the other boat so hard that I feared it would create a hole in the side. However, although the boat was spared, the merciless wave had swept up one of the hired men. He cried out in terror as he was cast into the tumultuous depths.

"Nuwn!" Yaaqov threw a rope toward the struggling man. "Keep fighting, Nuwn! Don't give up!"

Just as Nuwn's hand closed around the rope, another wave overwhelmed him, dragging him underwater. He never surfaced again.

Not until Achina slapped my face did I realize what had happened. I had been so afraid of the hired man's life that my logic had forsaken me, and I had tried to leave the boat to rescue him, insisting that I could simply walk out to him and take his hand. Ever protective of his younger brother, Achina had wrestled me to the deck and pinned me until I began thinking rationally once more.

"You can't do this!" he scolded. "You're not a young boy anymore! We're fishermen! If you panic every time there's a storm, you'll either go mad or drown yourself!"

"But he drowned!" I argued.

"A lot of men die here! You and I could just as easily suffer the same fate. All we can do is survive as long as possible and pray for mercy when we sail Kinneret."

By the time we reached land, we were a sorry group. Yaaqov's face was still pale, and he was trembling. I knew not if the beads of water on his brow were from the waves or his own sweat. Yowchanan sighed dismally.

"I'm so ashamed of myself," he began. "When I was a boy, I used to sit on the beach and pretend my ship had wrecked, and I was stranded on an island. I see now how wrong I was for making light of such tragedies."

As soon as the storm subsided, Yowchanan insisted on returning to the water and trying to find the body. Yaaqov, Achina, and I agreed to go with him, despite our exhaustion from having been awake all night. When I felt weight in my net, I felt jubilant, believing I had found Nuwn, but I simply pulled in an abundance of fish.

"It's not your fault," Achina assured me. "Our nets were made to catch fish, not men."

"When we sell our fish, I will give my coins to pay for mourners," I stated. "It's the least we could do for his family."

"What family?" Yaaqov asked. "He had no one."

As soon as I arrived home, I lay in bed, unable to sleep. I heard Emmi and Abayi whispering, but every time I closed my eyes, I saw the drowning man.

My younger sister sighed. "Are you just going to spend the rest of the day moping in self-pity?"

"I'm not moping!" I retorted.

Eliora rolled her eyes. "Deny it all you wish. I know you're moping. Why are you so upset when you didn't even know the man?"

"I've never seen someone die before my eyes."

She squeezed my hand lightly.

"I wished I could save him, but what was I supposed to do? Now his ghost will haunt me forever!" I turned in my bed.

"Shimown? What happens after death?"

"Our bodies are eaten by wild animals, insects, or fish."

"Does any part of us continue on?"

"I like to think so. It gives me hope that my life might have meaning and some sort of purpose."

"Your life? I doubt it!"

I glared at my sister, but Eliora continued to grin mischievously.

"I understand your feelings, Shimown" Achina began. "I saw him die too, but we can't spend the rest of our lives in mourning. It hurts, but we have to continue living. It's the only way to honor the dead."

I reluctantly nodded in agreement. "What do you think the afterlife is like?"

My brother shrugged. "I suppose the Messiah will tell us when he arrives, for he will know all things."

I allowed my siblings to persuade me to rise from my bed and do a few chores, but when I finally dozed, my sleep was as troubled as the rolling waves. I still heard the frightened scream of the man swallowed by Kinneret. The fish he had tried so often to catch were now feasting on him.


	5. Chapter 5

Eliora gathered a fresh bouquet of wildflowers to put on the table. Abayi had announced that we would have special visitors, so we were all determined to make them feel welcome.

"I wonder who they are." Achina thought a moment. "They can't be Roman. Our father would never allow a Gentile to set foot in our home!"

There was a light rapping at the door.

Emmi turned to face us and mouthed the word, "Manners!"

Abayi opened the door. "Welcome. We've been expecting you. My wife and daughter have prepared a fine meal of the fish my sons have caught."

An old woman entered. Her face was haggard, and her hair was whiter than newly fallen snow. Beside her was a younger woman with eyes that seemed as deep and mysterious as Kinneret before a storm. She was not of great beauty, but there was something alluring about her gentle demeanor, like Kinneret on a calm morning.

Eliora smiled warmly. "Welcome to our home. I see you are friends of my dear parents, but I have not yet had the pleasure of making your acquaintance. I am called Eliora."

"I am Merav," the old woman answered. "This is my daughter Yiskah. We are honored to be your guests."

The purpose for their visit soon became clear. Merav was a widow, and her husband had no living relatives to provide for her. Therefore, she hoped to find an honest man who would take Yiskah as his wife.

"My Yiskah is a fine woman," Merav concluded. "She will make a happy home for her family. I simply wish to rest in my grave knowing she will not become a harlot or starve in the street."

Abayi nodded. "Achina is a good man, a hard worker. He would teach his children to honor God."

Achina was silent.

"What say you, son?"

"Abayi," my brother began, "while I do pity this woman and her daughter, I do not feel I am ready for marriage."

My father turned to me. "And you, Shimown?"

I began choking on the piece of food I had just put in my mouth. Emmi had to strike me on the back to help me breathe.

"I've never considered marriage," I admitted. "I always thought my brother's wedding would come before mine, but if Yiskah will have me, I am willing to take her for my wife."

Abayi gripped my shoulder. "Well spoken, son!"

The next several weeks were as whirling dust in the desert wind. Abayi overwhelmed me with information about being a husband.

If I ever forgot the anniversary of the day I was wed, my wife would crucify me. If I wished to live a peaceful life, I must compliment my wife on how she kept our house, even if I disliked the furniture or noticed there were chores she had failed to finish. When we were in the chamber, I must say beautiful words if I wished to have physical romance, and if she conceived a child, I must treat her second only to God, no matter how irritable or unreasonable she became as her condition progressed. When my wife had her week of impurity, I must be supportive and patient, and I might even consider bringing her flowers or a small gift to make her feel better.

To make sure I appreciated my wife, Emmi made me spend a few days doing all the housework. I had to prepare meals, clean up messes, and wash clothes. Eliora added to my work by pretending to be a demanding child.

"Abayi!" she complained as I beat the dust out of the rug. "I'm hungry!"

"Go away!" I retorted. "I'm busy!"

"But I'm hungry, Abayi!"

I sighed. "Eliora, we're both adults. We're too old for childish games. Can you not see I'm beating this rug?"

She grinned. "You may as well get used to it."

Against my better judgment, I relented to her foolishness and placed a small bowl of fruit on the table. Eliora took one small bite of the nearest fruit.

"I'm full!" she announced proudly.

I felt my face growing hot. "You made me leave my chores for some childish pretense, and you're finished after one bite?"

Achina laughed, bending down to grab his sides before sinking to his knees. Satisfied that she had gotten the better of me, Eliora turned her attention back to her bowl and began eating. I returned to the rug.

On the appointed day, I dressed myself in a new robe. Achina directed my procession, which was joined by Yaaqov and Yowchanan. My feet felt as if they were made of stone. I could barely force myself to move. I didn't know why I was so frightened, but I wanted to flee.

When I saw Yiskah, I felt even more uneasy. She wore beautiful garments and jewelry, and her face had been painted with cosmetics. I caught the scent of perfume on the breeze.

As soon as my bride was seated in her litter, we began our walk back to my parents' home. The bride's friends sang love songs, but for the first time in my life, I was speechless.

My parents were waiting for us. Abayi prayed a blessing over our marriage, and the celebration began.

We all spent the rest of the day playing games and dancing, but my bride and I did not yet share a chamber. I knew she would remain in the company of her friends apart from the men.

On the following day, we were nearly a public spectacle. Yiskah, who was dressed all in white, was always surrounded by her maids, for men and women were still kept separate. As she sat under the canopy, waiting for my arrival, her friends and family gave her gifts, prayed blessings over her, and sang traditional love songs.

"Are you ready, Shimown?" Achina queried.

"For what?" I asked.

"You have to join your bride. Remember?"

Of course I remembered. Once we were together under the canopy, the male and female guests could stand together.

Yiskah faced me. "Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth, for your love is more delightful than wine. Pleasing is the fragrance of your perfumes; your name is like perfume poured out."

As she continued, I wondered how different the ceremony would be if I knew she meant what she said. What were weddings like if the couple married for love and not simply for economic purposes?

My thoughts were interrupted when my brother elbowed me sharply in the ribs and whispered, "Now you speak!"

I cleared my throat. "Arise. Come, my darling; my beautiful one, come away with me."

I was too nervous about the ceremony to feel embarrassed about having to recite sentimental poetry in front of my family and friends.

At long last, my part of the ceremony came to an end. Religious leaders prayed blessings over our union, and we sat down to the lavish feast my mother and sister had prepared, with a little help from my aunts and female cousins.

I tried to enjoy the food, but I was too nervous. What if I wasn't ready for marriage? What if I disappointed my wife? Did she know of my quick tongue? My temper?

Seeing that Yiskah had finished her meal, I walked over to her and asked if she was ready to retire. She shyly gave me her hand, and we walked to our chamber.

To my chagrin, I found myself unable to concentrate. I could hear Achina making crude jokes in the other room, and my new mother-in-law was just on the other side of the door, proudly informing everyone that now she would have several grandsons. Worst of all, I found myself unable to explain to my new wife why I was unable to make her a married woman. Every time I thought I would be able to consummate our marriage, someone would knock on the door and ask if everything was alright or if we were unsure what to do or if we needed help, and the moment was ruined.

"Never mind. Let's just talk," Yiskah suggested.

I may not have known how to seal a marriage, but I certainly knew how to talk, so I readily agreed to her suggestion.

"What's your biggest dream?" she asked.

I thought for a few moments. "Several years before I was born, my father saw something change in the night sky. One star stood in front of another, and they shone as one light. Some people thought it was a sign that our Messiah had been born. I guess I always secretly hoped I would see the Messiah."

She nodded in acknowledgement. "I've always wanted to travel and learn more about the Gentiles. I want to know if they believe in our God too."

"Some of them might," I admitted, "but I don't think I'd care to meet any Gentiles."

After a half hour of conversation, I noticed most of our guests had gotten bored and wandered away, and with no further disruptions, I was finally able to become a married man.

"Now we belong to each other until we part in death," Yiskah remarked.

Little did we know that even death would be unable to part us.


	6. Chapter 6

I had not yet spent two full years as a married man when Achina flung open my door without knocking.

"What is it?" I asked in alarm. "Have our parents fallen ill?

"I found him!" my brother announced proudly. "I spent the day with him! Come see him!"

I sighed and began massaging my head in an unsuccessful attempt to relieve a migraine. Achina's latest hobby was walking into the desert to see a man who had taken leave of his senses.

The man was known simply as the Baptizer. He ate locusts and honey, wore camel hair, and screamed at anyone within hearing distance that the kingdom of heaven was at hand.

I was unable to understand why my brother insisted on journeying to the desert to see such an unusual man. It was the custom for young men to spend time studying the teachings of a rabbi before they had lived a full three decades, but why had Achina chosen to follow this strange prophet?

"I am not following you to the desert!" I announced.

"Of course not! I know where he's staying!"

"Who?" I demanded crossly, growing more impatient with Achina by the moment.

"The Messiah! We have found him!"

I laughed heartily. "The Baptizer is the Messiah?"

"Of course not! He prepares the way for the Messiah. They are cousins."

I placed my hand on Achina's brow. "Do you have a fever?"

"Just talk to him!" my brother insisted. "You'll know!"

Reluctantly accepting the fact that the only way Achina would cease his nonsense was if I humored him, I conceded defeat. For once, I was too upset to speak. How would Achina like it if I dragged him from his home to meet someone who falsely claimed to be important?

When we found the home where this man was staying, Achina eagerly knocked on the door, joyfully announcing that he had brought his brother.

A man opened the door and smiled warmly. "Welcome back, Andreas."

I frowned. "Do you know this man? Why is he calling you by your other name?"

The man turned to me. "Peace to you, Shimown Bar-Yonah."

"How do you know my name?" I immediately felt foolish. "Of course. You've met my brother."

"You shall be called Kephas."

Who was this man, and why was he trying to change my name? If he insisted on doing so, why did he have to pick Kephas? Who in his right mind would wish to be named after a large stone?

"I will tell you when the time is right."

My brow furrowed once more. "I beg your pardon?"

"You were wondering why I changed your name," the man responded.

After my initial astonishment, I realized he must have seen the confusion in my face. Understanding my facial expression was no indication that he could hear my thoughts.

This man had been speaking with my brother, and he was also a cousin to our fishing partners, Yowchanan and Yaaqov. No doubt he had heard much about me.

"It's caused by an excess of a certain pigment in the skin."

I tilted my head in confusion. "What is?"

"Once when you were visiting a relative in another town," the stranger began, "you saw a black shadow in the trees. It was only for a fleeting moment, and you wondered if perhaps it was a black leopard. You thought of mentioning it, but you knew no one would believe you, so you never told anyone, not even your brother. You argue with yourself about it, though. One part of your mind denies it vehemently, but the other part stubbornly insists that you know what you saw."

For once, I was speechless. How did he know about the incident when I had never told another person?

"It was indeed a black leopard," he continued. "I let its parents pass on the trait that would turn it dark. I protected it from predators when it was young and helped it find food when it was older."

"Seems like a lot of work," I remarked.

"But it makes so many people happy when they see it. They marvel at the beauty of God's creation and give praise for its variety."

Either this rabbi was truly the Messiah, or he was a raving lunatic. There could be no other option. He was no mere prophet or great teacher. He was either the Son of God, or he was a madman.

"Is this so called pigment of the skin why some people are darker?" I queried.

He smiled warmly. "Mankind is made of earth. What color is earth?"

"Some of it is deep brown," I answered, "but the sand is a light tan."

"What about the Greeks?" Achina reminded me. "Merchants from Greece speak of beaches whiter than snow, redder than blood, and blacker than night."

"It's easier for those who live in sunny regions if their skin is darker," the rabbi stated. "That's why people of the colder regions tend to be paler. It's all part of God's design."

"You seem intelligent," I began, "but you don't look like the Messiah."

"And what does the Messiah look like?"

I stroked my chin, deep in thought. "Well, he should wear gold and gems."

The rabbi laughed heartily, his dark eyes sparkling with amusement.

"Did I say something funny?" I demanded.

"Gold and gems come from the ground, the same as granite," he explained, "and all things belong to God. If you wouldn't adorn yourself with stones, Kephas, then why would the Messiah adorn himself with gems?"

My brother nodded. "He's got you there, Shimown…Kephas."

I rolled my eyes.

"Come." The rabbi rose to his feet. "I will show you the gems of Heaven."

Despite my natural skepticism, my curiosity was piqued, so I followed him outside. The sun was beginning to set over the distant hills.

"Have you ever seen gold of a brighter gleam?" asked the rabbi.

"I can't say that I have," I admitted.

"What gems holds a more lustrous hue?"

"None that I've seen."

The rabbi smiled. "In the far northern and southern region, lights dance across the night sky. It's just one of the ways I show my people that I dance over them."

I stood in silence for several long moments before I asked, "Who are you? You're no ordinary rabbi."

"Who do you say I am?"

Once again, he had done what no other man could: leaving me speechless.

"It's alright." He put his hand on my shoulder. "You don't have to answer yet."

Either this man was truly the Messiah, or he had taken complete leave of his senses.


	7. Chapter 7

Fishermen had a reputation of being uneducated men who wore shabby robes and used more vulgar language than polite words, their temper being their most dominant trait. I was definitely earning my reputation as I pulled in my net with a profane interjection.

"Our second night without a catch!" I clenched my fists. "I'm losing money! As if the Romans don't make life hard enough!"

In an equally colorful flourish of crude speech, Achina told me to stop my accursed shouting before I frightened every blessed fish from here to the realm of eternal punishment.

"Easy for you to say!" I argued. "You don't have a wife depending on you!"

His reply included an insult that was demeaning to my manliness.

Yaaqov and Yowchanan were in a boat near ours. Judging from the loud thumping noises coming from the deck, Yowchanan had once again become angry enough to start throwing anything within reach. Rightly had their cousin given them the nickname "Sons of Thunder."

Zevadyah ignored his sons. From what they had told me, their father's temper had been even worse than their own until old age finally mellowed his temperament. Even now, I could hear the haggard man swearing at the fish for not allowing themselves to be caught.

What a sight we must have been! A group of men out sailing unpredictable waters at night, calling down curses on seemingly nonexistent fish! If I were not so cross, I might easily have been amused by the pathetic spectacle.

At last, I felt weight when I pulled in my net. I was certain I had caught the biggest fish in Kinneret. It would feed my family for days! My future sons would beg to hear the tale when they sat on my knees.

"This is it!" I announced. "I've caught a fish large enough to feed our entire family! No! Everyone in Bethsaida! No! The whole empire that Rome has claimed!"

With a final heave that nearly tore my net, I proudly hauled my catch onto the deck and gazed in astonishment at my prize: a huge rock.

"Delicious," Achina remarked wryly. "Shall we cook it as soon as we get back to shore, or shall we sell it and share with the whole Roman Empire?"

In my rage, I lifted the rock and flung it as far as I could over the side of the boat.

"Great job!" my brother complimented. "Now every fish in Kinneret will be swimming as fast as they can in the opposite direction! No use even trying to keep fishing tonight!"

I scowled daggers at him.

"Look on the bright side. Maybe you hit a fish. Any moment now, it will just come floating to the water, and we can scoop it up. Did you remember to accuse the fish formally in court before you stoned it?"

"If God truly loves us, why doesn't he send us any fish?" I shouted.

"If you truly love God, why do you speak blasphemy?"

I hoped God understood that it was nothing personal. After all, he had made my personality as he formed my body within my mother's womb. Was it my fault I was unable to control my fiery zeal and often said things I didn't mean?

"I do not speak blasphemy!" I retorted.

"You're doing it again," Achina remarked.

"Doing what?"

"Denying everything when you think you're in trouble. When are you ever going to learn?"

"I'll have you know I never deny anything!"

"You just did. Want to go for a record of three times in a row?"

The laughter I heard from the other boat let me know that our fishing companions had heard the entire conversation.

"It's not always a sin to question God," Zevadyah remarked. "It depends on your motives, if the question is sincere or not, if you truly wish to know something or if you're just demanding an explanation because you feel he owes you something."

The light gray patch on the horizon was both my respite and my enemy, for it heralded the arrival of dawn. I was freed of this torment, but I had to face my family without the coins that came from a netful of fish.

When we finally arrived onshore, I wanted nothing more than a good nap, but there was work to do. After all, it was just an ordinary day, so why should I expect anything special?

Achina and I carried our nets off the boat and began washing them in the water. They may not have caught any fish, but they had sure gathered a great deal of mud, underwater plants, sand, twigs, broken shells, and some sort of half-eaten animal that looked like a cross between a fish and a snake.

Abayi had taught us from an early age how important it was to clean our nets after every trip. Rotting debris would cause an unbearable stench, which would also attract rats. When the rats fed on the debris, they would gnaw holes in our nets. Fish could also see specks of dirt from a great distance, so the net must be clean to remain invisible to them. Its movements must also be unhindered by the weight of debris, which would eventually weaken the cords.

"I think there's someone in your boat," Yaaqov remarked.

I scowled in the direction of the boat, and to my frustration, I noted he was right.

"I don't have time for this!" I exclaimed, throwing my hands up in exasperation. "I have to mend my net!"

Muttering under my breath, I stormed toward my boat, ready to confront whoever had…

I stopped short when I drew near enough to see the cause of my fury, for this man was no boat thief, and although I may not understand his ways, I had no cause to suspect he wished me any harm.

"Good morning, Rabbi Yehowshuwa," I greeted, my tone unintentionally curt.

"Good morning, Kephas." His voice was warm and friendly. "Will you take me out a little way so I can talk to these people?"

I groaned. I was already exhausted from having spent all night sailing and fishing, and I still had to mend my net.

"Rabbi," I began, "I've been out all night, and…" I sighed, reluctant to do his bidding, but unable to bring myself to refuse. "Very well."

His seat in the boat helped the gathering crowd see where he was, and the water made his voice a bit louder so they could hear him more easily, especially since we were at the bottom of a hill.

However, as he began speaking, I barely heard him. There was no flaw in his idea to teach from a boat; I was simply too distracted by thoughts of finishing my work and returning home. Not until Yehowshuwa touched my shoulder did I realize he had finished his teaching.

"Come," he instructed. "Go into deeper water, and we will catch fish."

I glared. "Your cousins say you are a carpenter! What do you know of my trade? I'll have you know we have fished from sunset until the first light of dawn, and we have caught nothing!"

"Not even a rock?" he asked.

I felt my face redden.

"Let me show you just how much God loves you."

Something akin to shame began to slither down my back.

"If you insist!" I answered. "I'll do it to humor you, Rabbi."

I walked down the beach to the place where my brother had just finished mending my net for me. For all his faults, Achina could be considerate at times.

"The rabbi wants to fish," I announced.

Achina frowned. "Fish who aren't caught at night certainly won't be caught during the day! Some kinds of fish aren't even active at this hour, and the net will be more visible!"

"I tried to explain all that to him," I replied, "but he's not hearing any of it!"

My brother thought a moment. "If there's even the slightest chance that he just might be the Messiah, maybe we should do as he says."

"That's what I told him."

"I'll come."

Ever insistent that no man should fish Kinneret alone, Zevadyah stated that he would join us with his sons. Thus we began what I knew would be the most futile task of my life.


	8. Chapter 8

Achina and I were mostly silent as we set sail yet again. It would have seemed wrong using our usual phrases in the presence of a rabbi, especially if he were the Messiah.

"The wind seems in our favor," I remarked. "That's one good thing."

My brother yawned.

"Are you tired, Andreas?" Yehowshuwa asked kindly.

I crossed my arms. "What kind of ridiculous question is that? Of course he's tired!"

"Then we will stop here."

I tried several times without success before I was able to speak. "The water is still too shallow! If this is your attempt at humor…!"

"Just do as he says so we can go home!" Achina retorted. "Besides, he's the Messiah. What will you say when you stand before almighty God on your deathbed, and he asks why you didn't listen to the Messiah?"

Becoming angrier by the moment, I flung my net over the side of the boat. I would show my brother once and for all that this rabbi was a madman wasting our time! I would tell my future nieces and nephews about what a fool Uncle Achina was!

Feeling the heaviness in my net made me so enraged that my vision began to blur. This foolish rabbi had dragged me all the way back here so I could catch another rock!

Muttering under my breath, I strained to lift the net. I had built up a few muscles from my years hauling struggling fish out of the water, but I was unable to lift the net on my own.

Achina grabbed the net and began straining with me. The cord was so tight that I knew the net would break if our catch remained in the water for much longer.

"Yowchanan!" I shouted, waving my arms to signal to them. "Yaaqov! Help us!"

To save our strength, my brother and I released the net as we waited, but I noticed it was still sinking deeper into the water. To my delight, I also noticed it was moving. Rocks don't move. Fish do.

What happened next was the most unusual way I had ever seen to catch fish. To keep my net from breaking, I had to open it enough that Achina, Yaaqov, Yowchanan, and Zevadyah could cast their nets into mine.

"The nets will tangle!" Yaaqov protested.

"Do you have any better ideas?" demanded Achina.

Miraculously, there were so many fish that the nets did not tangle, even though every man hauled in a net that nearly burst from the weight of the fish. For every fish that was taken from my net, five more seemed to appear from nowhere to take its place. Our boats slowly began to sink

"We have to get to shore if we don't want to go for a swim!" Yowchanan announced.

We sailed as quickly as we could, although it was more difficult than usual because our heavy boats still carried my net between them.

Overwhelmed from the experience, I threw myself to my knees in front of the rabbi, not caring that I was kneeling on a cold, slippery pile of fish flopping in the throes of death. There was so much I wanted to say, so many questions that raced through my mind.

Yehowshuwa gently gripped my shoulder. "Thank you for lending me your boat, Kephas. Please accept this gift as a way of showing my appreciation."

I turned away, unable to face him. Every harsh word that had ever escaped my lips now raced through my mind, along with every doubt or excuse I had ever had. In the presence of his calm demeanor, I felt ashamed of every time I had lost my temper.

I wanted to tell him he was welcome to use my boat any time he wanted, and he didn't even have to give me fish in return. I wanted to tell him that my stubbornness had finally melted away, and I knew that he was the Messiah. I wanted to ask why he would waste his time talking to fishermen rather than religious scholars, but for all the things I wanted to say, I was only able to manage one sentence.

"Depart from me, Lord," I humbly entreated, "for I am a sinful man."

"Depart from you? Never." Yehowshuwa raised me to my feet. "Don't be afraid. I'll teach you how to fish for men. You will teach them to pray, 'Come near to me, Lord, and make me a forgiven man.'"

I looked down, still unable to look him in the eye.

"There's no need to cry."

"I'm not crying!" I answered. "Fishermen aren't men of sentiment!"

Yehowshuwa gently wiped away the single tear that had begun tracing its way down my cheek. "Still denying everything, are you?"

He had a sad smile, as if he knew something I didn't, but I had already learned that he never explained anything before he felt like it.

When we finally got to shore, I noticed a large crowd had been watching. They marveled at the great number of fish we had caught.

Yehowshuwa turned to the four of us. "I'll leave you to mend your nets and sell your fish…or you could follow me."

Achina didn't even hesitate. "Lead me, my Lord!"

I turned to Zevadyah. "Will you give my wife my share of the money you earn from selling the fish? I want to make sure she has enough to eat while I'm gone."

"Of course," he promised. "And I'll make sure no one steals your boat."

"Thank you."

I stood beside my brother, ready to follow Yehowshuwa.

Yowchanan smiled. "You never cease to amaze me, cousin. I will follow you."

"And I," Yaaqov added.

If we had known then how our actions would affect the rest of our lives, we all would have seriously reconsidered our decision. Then again, we probably would have followed him anyway. After all, he never promised anyone an easy life, simply a fulfilling one.


	9. Chapter 9

When we found Piynechac, he was in the marketplace. He seemed an intelligent, practical man, and he was well pleased with having bested another man while haggling.

Yehowshuwa approached him. "A good day at the market, my friend?"

"Indeed. I just…" He frowned. "Who are you?"

"God has heard your prayers, Piynechac." Yehowshuwa smiled. "Or do you prefer to be called by your Greek name?"

The man shrugged. "Piynechac or Philippos. What's it to me? Seems everyone these days has two names. Speaking of which, you never told me yours, nor have you mentioned how you know me."

"I've known you all your life. I formed your fingerprints before you were born. I smiled when you sat on your father's knees and questioned him about the prophecies about me."

Piynechac's eyes widened. "Are you claiming to be the Messiah?"

"It is a rightful claim," my brother stated. "We saw him perform a miracle in our boat."

As we told him what had happened at Kinneret, Piynechac became even more intrigued.

"Would you excuse me for just a moment, Rabbi?" he asked when we had finished.

Yehowshuwa nodded kindly, and Piynechac threw his dignified practicality to the wind. Our newest acquaintance raced through the streets, shouting as loudly as he could for some man named Nathanael.

"He's under a fig tree," Yehowshuwa informed us.

"A real one, or do you mean it as a figure of speech?" I queried.

In the heat of the day, the abundant foliage of a fig tree would provide shade, but rabbis also used the expression "under a fig tree" as an idiom, meaning someone was spending time in prayer or meditating on the words God had given his people. Then again, perhaps this Nathanael was actually spending time in worship while in the shade of a real fig tree.

Piynechac arrived with another man. "Rabbi, this is my friend, Nathanael Bar-Talmay."

"An Israelite with no cunning deceit in his spirit," Yehowshuwa remarked, "the kind of man blessed by the psalmist. You wondered if anything good could come from Netzer; I searched for a man of Yisrael without the deceit of his ancestor Yaaqov."

"How do you know me?" Nathanael asked in disbelief.

"Before Piynechac summoned you, I saw you under the fig tree."

"That's right!" Nathanael confirmed incredulously. "That's exactly…" After several moments of silence, he spoke again. "It's you! It really is you, Rabbi! You are the Son of God! The King of Israel! The promised Messiah!"

Yehowshuwa laughed warmly. "You believe so easily because I told you I saw you under the fig tree? You will see far greater things!"

As our conversation continued, I learned much about our new companions. Nathanael had the mind of a scholar. Unfortunately, his intelligence also made him a natural skeptic.

He was also struggling to overcome his family history. His father, Talmay, had been unable to put down the wine goblet ever since the loss of his beloved wife. Yoqtan Bar-Talmay, Nathanael's younger brother, had gradually come to share his father's love of wine, and in his stupor, he had angered a Roman guard and was sentenced to death.

"I will not be like them!" Nathanael stated. "The name of Bar-Talmay is a pitiful jest! I cannot change what my father and brother have done, but I can choose how I will live my own life!"

Although Nathanael hated the Romans, as most of us did, Piynechac had more of an open mind to learning about other cultures. He believed that since the Romans obviously had no plans to relinquish their claim to our land, we may as well learn all we could about their culture. Even if we did not accept their beliefs and practices, we should at least understand them so we could live in stability, if not true peace.

"I've always wanted to see a chariot race," Piynechac remarked.

Nathanael rolled his eyes. "You want to see innocent horses break their necks from being driven into walls when they take a turn too tightly?"

"It's not always like that. Just imagine: teams of horses working as one animal, men strategically planning their every command…"

"Weapons on the side of the chariots to wound any horses who get too close."

Achina changed the subject. "What do you think our lives will be like now that we've decided to follow the rabbi?"

I shrugged. Many young men spent a short time learning from a rabbi, but they continued to lead ordinary lives. I could already tell this experience would be different. After all, our rabbi was the Messiah.

Contrary to what some people would come to believe, the Messiah was not against making merry. Of course, he would never condone using substances harmful to the body or breaking any laws or destroying property, but he enjoyed a feast or a celebration as much as any man.

I was hardly surprised. After all, any good thing is a gift from God, and who would argue against the benefits of laughter and mirth?

Shortly after he called us to follow him, Yehowshuwa was invited to a wedding, and since we were his disciples, the host invited us as well. I had never met the couple, but I presumed they were either distant relatives or friends of the rabbi's family.

The food was exquisite. The bridegroom's father had ordered his servants to kill the fatted calf and serve the tender meat with fennel and olives.

Nathanael refused to have any wine, adamantly insisting that there would not be another Bar-Talmay who died in a stupor. However, he was clearly alone in his opinion. One of the guests had already fallen asleep from the effects of too much wine.

"Is it sin to take wine?" I asked.

"It can be," Yehowshuwa responded. "Wine and other strong drinks can lead to many sins, especially since it's so easy for wine to become like a daily necessity for anyone who takes too much of it. It isn't sin to own a knife, but if an angry man does, he may easily be tempted to kill. It isn't sin to eat, but a man given to appetite may easily be tempted to gluttony. Likewise, a man too dependent on the drink should avoid wine, lest he sin, but there are heath benefits of wine if used carefully in moderation."

Satisfied that I could do so with a clear conscience, I went to help myself to some. Surely half a goblet would do me no harm. After all, some men were already on their third.

To my disappointment, I realized the wine had already been consumed. Running out of wine was a social error that would haunt the married couple for the rest of their lives. Furthermore, wine represented joy, so the lack of wine was a symbol that neither the couple nor their guests were enjoying the wedding.

When Yehowshuwa's mother spoke to him about the matter, he told the servants to fill the waterpots with water. There were six of these stone jars in the outer courtyard. They were large enough to be used for purification ceremonies that required immersion of the entire body.

"The servants have already had much work to do this evening," Achina remarked. "Is it right that they are asked to do more?"

"Those who share in my work will share in my blessings," Yehowshuwa answered. "If you get too impatient, you could offer to help them."  
I am ashamed to report that none of us felt like lifting a finger. After all, we had come to this wedding celebration to enjoy ourselves, not to break a sweat.

"This work is breaking my back!" one of the servants remarked breathlessly.

"Not nearly as much as the master will if he doesn't get his wine!" another answered. "Think it's full enough?"

"We'd better fill them to the brim, just in case."

"In case of what?" He poured another bucket of water into the pitcher. "Won't bugs and frogs lay their eggs in this water if we leave it out here too long?"

"Just get back to work!"

There were enough servants that the exhausting task was soon finished.

"Now draw some out and take it to the master of the feast," Yehowshuwa instructed.

My family had never been rich enough to own servants, but even I knew the master of the feast would be enraged when his subordinates brought him tepid water, even without the bug larvae. The servant who carried the water had turned paler than alabaster. He bit down on his bottom lip in an unsuccessful attempt to control the quavering of his lower jaw.

The master of the feast eagerly tasted the wine, having no idea of its origins. As he swallowed, the servants waited with bated breath. When he called the bridegroom over to him, they gasped.

"At other weddings," the master of the feast began, "the good wine is served first, and after the guests are too drunk to notice, the host brings out the inferior wine, but I see you have saved the best for last!"

Before the servants could breathe a sigh of relief, the master was already calling for more of the good wine.

Unable to resist, I helped myself to a little. The flavor of the grapes was excellent, but the taste of fermentation was mild, enough to warm the throat pleasantly, but not enough that it needed to be mixed with water before being fit for consumption.

I chuckled to myself. Of course it didn't need to be mixed with water. It was already water…or at least it had been less than a quarter of an hour ago.

It was indeed a wonderful wine, but the guests would likely suffer indigestion before they felt any effects of drunkenness.


	10. Chapter 10

Just before Passover, Yehowshuwa demonstrated his ability to cleanse the temple itself. When he saw a group of money changers selling animals for sacrifice, he made a whip of cords and drove them out, overturning tables and casting their coins to the ground.

To some, it may have appeared that Yehowshuwa had lost his temper and behaved rashly in his fury, but as always, he had perfectly sound reasons for his actions. The outer court was the only area where Gentiles were allowed to pray. By setting up their business in this area, the money changers were hindering people from their worship of God.

Furthermore, offering a sacrifice to God was never meant to be about making other people wealthy at one's own expense. The religious officials had developed a habit of scrutinizing every animal intended for sacrifice and finding a minor flaw, real or imagined. The worshipper, in fear of incurring the wrath of almighty God, would then buy one of the overpriced animals the money changers had deemed worthy of sacrifice.

"You must remember," Yowchanan reminded the rest of us, "he's not just the Lamb of God. He's also the Lion of the tribe of Yehudah. What lion will not demonstrate his power and authority if challenged?"

I also found it fitting that he had cleansed the temple at the beginning of his ministry and would cleanse it again when his ministry was finished.

Not all religious leaders were heartless. Nikodemos, a Pharisee who was a member of the Sanhedrin, came to visit Yehowshuwa by night. Perhaps he wanted an uninterrupted audience, or perhaps he was too timid to act on his beliefs.

"We know you are a teacher sent by God," he began, "for you do miraculous things that no man can do unless God is with him."

"Is God with you?"

Nikodemus remained silent as his jaw became slack and hung open. He was a leader, an influential man who had received such a great education that he introduced himself only by his Greek name.

"Truthfully, no man can see the kingdom of God unless he is born again of above," Yehowshuwa continued.

The Pharisee failed to understand his meaning. After all, he had been taught his entire life that all descendants of Avraham were assured of reaching Paradise on their deathbeds. He no doubt would have understood if Yehowshuwa had told him all Gentiles must be reborn of above.

"Can a man enter again into his mother's womb?" Nikodemus queried.

The question seemed not out of ignorance, but a figurative way to ask if an old man had to seek knowledge as if he knew nothing.

"Believe me when I tell you that you must be born of the spirit," Yehowshuwa answered. "You feel the effects of the wind, even though you cannot trace its origins. The birth of the spirit is similar."

Nikodemus stroked his gray beard. "How can this be?"

"Are you a teacher of Yisrael, and you don't understand?"

The Pharisee reddened with shame.

"If you don't believe me when I tell you of earthly things, how will you believe when I tell you of heavenly things?" After a pause, he added, "I trust you have heard of the brazen serpent in the wilderness?"

Nikodemus nodded. He had no doubt taught many times of the venomous serpents that had bitten the people of Yisrael on their way to the land God had promised them. To save the lives of his nation, Moshe had been instructed to forge a serpent of bronze, a metal associated with judgment, especially when put through fire. Moshe put the bronze serpent on a pole, and any person who was envenomed would cast his or her eyes upon it. When God saw this act of obedience and faith, he spared the life of the victim.

"The Son of Man must be lifted up the same way," Yehowshuwa stated. "It is the only way all men may have eternal life."

"The Messiah is going to be lifted up on a pole as a judgment for sin?" Nikodemus shook his head. "In a literal or figurative sense?"

Yehowshuwa made no reply.

"But why must it be so?"

"Because God loved all of mankind so dearly that he sent his only son to die for them," the rabbi answered. "Whoever believes in him will not perish, but will have everlasting life. God did not send his son into the world to condemn the world, but that the world might be saved through him. Thus, whoever believes is not condemned in the least, but whoever does not believe has been condemned already."

When he explained, it seemed so simple. However, there was nothing simple about our group when the six other apostles were called. There were two men by the name of Yehudah. To simplify, one of the men stated that we could refer to him as Thaddai.

Thaddai had a gentle demeanor and a kindred spirit. He would have allowed an ox to trample his foot, breaking every bone below his ankle, before he stood up for himself and asked the creature to move. He rarely spoke unless someone addressed him first. In other words, he would have been the poorest excuse for a fisherman in all of Yisrael.

Yehudah was also quiet and thoughtful, but when he did speak, he said whatever was on his mind without fretting about etiquette. I had no doubt he would become a great leader someday. He seemed lonely, for his taciturn nature hindered his ability to socialize.

Then there was Taoma. When he truly believed in something, he pursued it with every breath, but convincing him of a new idea was like convincing the fish to swim out of Kinneret and beach themselves so I could gather them in a basket without the use of boat or net. His temper could match mine at times, but his natural hesitation hindered his zeal, whereas mine often got me in trouble because I couldn't be bothered to think before speaking or acting.

In his childhood, Taoma had a twin sister, but unfortunately, she had died in their first year of life. Although he was unable to remember her, she still haunted his memory. He always wondered what kind of woman she would have become if she had survived.

Mattityahu had even more difficult than Yehudah when it came to making friends. We naturally despised all tax collectors, not only because we were forced to part with our coins, but also because they were Jews in the employ of Romans. How much more of a traitor could any man be?

I suppose Yehowshuwa saw past his occupation. For all his faults, Mattityahu was excellent at keeping records. He always declared that one day, he would write his own scroll, but I always assured him that no one would ever be interested in reading the words of a tax collector.

He risked more than most of us by following Yehowshuwa. If everything went wrong, Achina and I could easily return to fishing. However, by following Yehowshuwa, Mattityahu had lost all his credibility as a tax collector. His reputation was ruined beyond repair, and no one would ever hire him again.

Our group also had another Yaaqov and another Shimown. This Yaaqov was somehow related to Mattityahu, but I forget how. Perhaps they were brothers or cousins. To distinguish him from my fishing partner, we called him Yaaqov the Younger. I was called Shimown Kephas, or simply Kephas, and the other man who shared my name was called Shimown the Zealot.


	11. Chapter 11

My flesh crawled as we journeyed through Samaria. We had been at war with these half-breeds for centuries. Any good Jew would journey several days out of his way to avoid passing through this wretched land of dogs who were neither fully Hebrew nor fully Gentile. They even had their own sect of religion!

Not only were the Samaritans ignorant fools, but they were also violent. Years ago, they had profaned our temple inYerushalayim by scattering the bones of corpses in the holy sanctuary!

Perhaps this act was retaliation for the time many decades earlier when a band of Jews had destroyed the Samaritan temple and ravaged the territory. After so many centuries of hatred, no one was quite certain which group had started the feud. However, we each knew we would rather die than owe our lives to a member of the wrong people, not that there was a chance of any of us ever showing mercy to any creature we despised so much.

Yehowshuwa seated himself on the edge of a well. I could hardly believe he was actually touching something in Samaria.

"Go buy some food," he instructed.

I felt my eyes widen in horror. We would have to put part of this horrid land in our mouths and consume it! Even worse, we would have to do business with the Samaritans!

We all shuffled our feet as we walked, for none of us were in a rush to arrive at the stall of a Samaritan vendor, who would happily charge us five times what the food was truly worth. I was finally grateful to have Mattityahu in our group. Surely he knew how to force people to relinquish their grasp on valuable items!

The Samaritans glared when they saw us. Children began grabbing rotten fruit and hurling it our direction. Vendors crossed their arms and shook their heads, silently letting us know that they were unwilling to do business with us.

At last, we reached the stall of a man who looked too impoverished to refuse money, no matter whose he was forced to accept. He set his jaw, not willing to speak to us, but he jerked his hand briefly toward the dates, olives, leeks, and figs that he sold, indicating that we should quickly make our purchase and leave.

The flesh of my hand crawled, as if a serpent were coiled around every finger, as I placed food in my basket. Why had Yehowshuwa placed us in this situation? Did he understand nothing about the humiliation of being forced to lower one's reputation?

Yehudah held out a few coins so the Samaritan could see them. The half-breed dog gave a terse nod to show he accepted the coins as a fair price, and Yehudah flung them in his face. We then turned to go.

When we returned to the well, I could have fallen to the ground from the surprise that awaited me. Yehowshuwa was speaking with a Samaritan woman!

First of all, a good Jewish man does not address a woman in public. Second, could he not see she was a Samaritan? As if that wasn't bad enough, judging from the amount of cosmetics she had applied to her face, she tended to grow lonely after sunset. Furthermore, she was alone at midday rather than coming to the well of a morning with friends, a sure sign that she was shunned by her community. Why would the rabbi address her?

Without saying a word, we collectively agreed not to ask any questions. The Messiah's ways were unknown to us, and it was better if we avoided the conversation altogether.

Suddenly, the ugly harlot approached us in great excitement. We all cringed, not in the mood to be solicited by a foolish hag who didn't know a Jew when she saw him.

"This man has told me everything about myself!" she announced. "He knew of my past husbands and that the man I'm with now is not my husband!"

I frowned. "Why would you announce that in public?"

My tongue immediately felt as if I had licked a live coal. I hadn't meant to speak to a Samaritan.

"He is the Messiah!" the woman exclaimed joyously. "He has come at last!"

My heart sank like a boulder cast into the sea. If Yehowshuwa insisted on teaching these people about eternal life, we weren't going to leave within the next hour.

To my horror, we were soon surrounded by half of Samaria, who pleaded with Yehowshuwa to stay with them. Even worse, he agreed!

The woman he had met at the well turned to another man. "We can no longer live together in sin. You must take me as your wife or live apart from me as your neighbor."

Many of the Samaritans came to believe Yehowshuwa was indeed the Messiah, not merely because of the testimony of the woman, but because they had met him themselves.

I was unable to sleep that night. How could Yehowshuwa force us to stay in this horrid land by day, let alone overnight? How did I know the Samaritans wouldn't slit our throats as we slept?

Achina sighed in disgust. "Will you be quiet?"

"I didn't say anything!" I whispered back harshly.

"I can hear you sighing or groaning or turning over every few moments! The rest of us are trying to sleep!"

"Which they can't do with the sound of your voice!"

"Walk with me."

Too restless to do anything else, I followed my brother to the edge of town.

"I'm still adjusting too." He lightly squeezed my shoulder.

I understood his meaning. It had been just the two of us in our own brotherly world for so many years. Now we followed our two fishing partners, eight men who had previously been complete strangers, and a rabbi who was our Messiah.

"I miss Yiskah," I confessed.

"You've grown to love her then?"

I shrugged. "I don't have all the feelings for her that lovers describe in old poems, but she's a kind woman and an excellent companion. We're friends."

"Do you think she'll have any trouble?"

My brother's words confused me. Why would my wife have any trouble? Surely enough of our friends were making sure she had enough food, and…

"From what we're doing, I mean," Achina finished his thought.

"What do you mean?"

"Not everyone is going to believe Yehowshuwa is the Messiah," he explained. "If someone in authority fails to believe it, they could cause trouble for those who do."

"What sort of trouble?"

Achina sighed as he looked out across the darkened horizon. "I don't know. Flogging. Imprisonment, perhaps. Death."

I cringed. "Would you?"

"Would I what?"

"Die."

He laughed softly. "Everyone dies, Shimown."

"Execution, I mean. If you had to choose between your faith and your life, would you die?"

After several long moments of silence, he finally confessed, "I'm not sure. I don't think any of us could be sure what we'd do in any given situation until the day we truly experience it."

I nodded solemnly. As much as it pained me to admit it to myself, my brother's words held wisdom.

"And you?" he asked.

"I don't know either," I admitted. "I don't mind being dead, for that means I'd just be in Paradise, but the process of dying…" I winced. "It can be horrifically painful, especially if the Romans have anything to do with it!"

"Truly excruciating."

Our conversation was normal interaction for us. Achina and I often talked about deep subjects that caused us to consider our own innermost fears and secrets.

However, I was unable to forget his words. What if the belief in Yehowshuwa as the Messiah caused a new sect of Judaism to form? The Romans tolerated the Jews because our religion was older than the foundation of Rome itself, but they weren't always supportive of new sects, especially when monotheism was involved. No doubt they would see it as a new religion, new ideas that threatened their empire by angering their gods. Even if Rome fell tomorrow, what would the Sanhedrin say if we were unable to convince them that our Messiah had arrived at last?

Change loomed on the horizon like clouds gathering before a storm. I could only pray the storm would not strike as fiercely as I feared.


	12. Chapter 12

Of all the teachings Yehowshuwa ever gave his followers, the one that stands out the most in my mind is the sermon he gave to vast multitudes. As was common practice, the teacher sat while his students stood. I wondered how the people in the back of the crowd were able to pay attention, for he was hidden from view, but they didn't seem to mind a bit, and he projected his voice well.

However, I began to grow uneasy. It seemed everything he said was the exact opposite of the advice a Roman mentor might give his subordinates.

"Blessed are the poor in spirit," he began, "for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted. Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth. Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be filled. Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy."

The Romans would certainly never accept the ideas of meekness or mercy. They believed that savage conquests would inherit the earth.

"Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God. Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called sons of God."

That phrase definitely contradicted the Roman belief. Those fools had the idea that only their emperor was the son of God!

"Blessed are those who are persecuted for the sake of righteousness, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are you when they revile and persecute you, and say all kinds of evil against you falsely for my sake. Rejoice and be exceedingly glad, for great is your reward in heaven, for so they persecuted the prophets who were before you."

A chill raced through my entire body swifter than a flash of lightning. Clearly, he knew something we didn't, something we wished we knew, but we wouldn't find out until it was too late.

My recent conversation with my brother came to mind. What would the Sanhedrin do to us if they didn't believe Yehowshuwa was truly the Messiah? What would the Romans do?

I knew that even as he sat there, Yehowshuwa knew what would happen to us all. He knew which people who stood before him today would not stand before him in Paradise until old age claimed them, and he knew which people would have their lives cut short for choosing their loyalty to him over their natural instinct to live.

He wished to comfort us. He wanted to let us know that even when the trouble began, the situations in which we found ourselves would not be as hopeless as they appeared.

However, I shuddered at the thought of what problems we would face. How long would they last? How would we ever endure?

Yehowshuwa continued preaching about what to do if shown contempt. He even emphasized that we should love our enemies and bless those who cursed us.

I knew I would struggle for the rest of my earthly life with his commands. I wanted to obey the Messiah, but I had a quick temper and a vile tongue. How would I ever be able to show kindness to a man whose face I wished to strike with the back of my hand in a gesture of contempt?

He even taught us how we should pray. The first step was to acknowledge God and to praise his name. We must then pray for his will to be made manifest in our lives. After we had given our praise and thanks, then we should present our needs, including daily provision, forgiveness, and strength to do the right thing. The prayer was concluded as it started, acknowledging the sovereignty of God.

Yehowshuwa gave us instructions about not making a spectacle of our good deeds or service to God. He also made sure to emphasize that while it was not wrong to own material goods, we must see ourselves as stewards of these blessings, not hoarders. Our loyalty must always be to God, not to any items we owned.

I shuffled uncomfortably when he began preaching against worry, using nature as an example to show how God provides even for those who can do nothing for themselves.

"Do not worry about tomorrow," Yehowshuwa continued. "Sufficient for the day is its own trouble."

My face grew hot. I had missed a good portion of his sermon by fretting about whether the Sanhedrin or the Romans would punish us first.

"Do not judge others, or you will be judged with the same measure."

I knew other rabbis illustrated judgment with a story of two scales. One represented justice, and the other symbolized mercy. God would ultimately judge the individual with the same scales he or she had used most often in judging other people.

Yehowshuwa continued to use many metaphors of his own to illustrate his teaching. He spoke of doors and gates and roads.

"Beware of false prophets. They come to you as sheep's clothing, but inwardly, they are ravenous wolves."

Was this a reference to the psalmist who wrote about the Lord as his shepherd? Was Yehowshuwa referencing his own life as the Lamb of God? What was our defense against these wolves when they attacked our flock?

"You will know them by their fruits."

Of course. We would see what results their lives and alleged ministries produced. That's how we would know if a leader was truly of God or not.

It wasn't enough simply to refer to Yehowshuwa as our Lord and go through empty rituals. Our confession of faith had to be sincere. If he was truly our Lord, our daily lives would prove it.

If we heard his teachings and put them into practice, we were like a man who built his house on a foundation of stone. When rain, wind, and floods threatened his home, it still remained standing, for it had a solid foundation. (I secretly began to wonder if this story was a clue to why I had been given the name Kephas.)

It wasn't enough to hear his words. We had to do them. If not, we were like a fool who built his house on sand. Any part of the foundation not blown away by the wind was easily washed away in the flood. The house completely collapsed.

When Yehowshuwa finished his sermon, everyone marveled. Instead of quoting other rabbis, as many scholars did, he had spoken as one who had authority in his own right.

As we came down the mountain, we met a leper. The flesh of his jaw was already so disfigured that I could see his teeth before he even opened his mouth. He could barely walk because he was missing most of his right foot, and the stench of decaying flesh made me retch. When he saw Yehowshuwa, the leper's good eye took on a hopeful gleam.

"Lord!" He threw himself to his knees, although keeping the required distance from our group. "I bless God that he has brought you to me! Praise be to God!"

"What can I do for you?" Yehowshuwa asked kindly.

"If you are willing, Lord, you can make me clean!"

Yehowshuwa approached the leper. The man had been an outcast ever since the onset of his disease. Rabbis often boasted of avoiding streets where they had seen lepers. Some rabbis even cast stones at them. Truly a victim of leprosy had no company other than his own disease, unless, of course, the unfortunate person knew other lepers.

This victim had no one who could bring him to Yehowshuwa, nor had he ever heard of Yehowshuwa healing a leper. No one had encouraged or invited him to speak with us, yet he was willing to try, and he seemed sincere that the rabbi could ease his suffering.

The man shed a tear when he saw a face that held compassion rather than disgust and fright. He actually sobbed when Yehowshuwa lightly placed a hand on his haggard brow.

"Rabbi, why do you do this?" the leper asked.

"Because I am willing." Yehowshuwa gripped the man's shoulder. "Be cleansed."

He took the man's hands and helped him to his feet. Immediately, the leper's fingers began to grow until they were once more of proper length, and his posture improved as his foot was made whole. In another moment, the unblemished flesh that now covered his face caused him to smile for what must have been the first time in years as the putrid odor vanished, and his disfigured eye took on the same healthy gleam as the other.

"My Lord and my God!" His tears flowed freely now, but this time, they were of joy.

The former leper's face glowed with an unearthly light. Perhaps it was merely the late afternoon sun. Perhaps it was the joy of his healing. Then again, perhaps it was something more, something greater than us all.


	13. Chapter 13

Well over half the population of Kapernaoum seemed to be afflicted in some way. When we traveled through this town, throngs of people crowded around Yehowshuwa wherever he went.

As the rabbi taught in one home, it began to fill with so many people that there was no room to move. There were even people crowding the street outside just to hear his words.

Suddenly, I heard the sound of something scraping the sod on the roof. Straw and dust began to fall on the unsuspecting crowd. When a stone was moved, sunlight spilled into the room from a hole in the roof.

Four faces appeared, and four pairs of hands began to lower a heavy mat through the gap. As the pallet got closer to the floor, I noticed it contained a man.

Yehowshuwa took the man's hand. "Take heart. Your sins are forgiven."

The people watched expectantly, knowing this statement must be part of a lesson, but not quite sure what to expect.

He turned to the religious leaders among the crowd. "Why do you say that?"

One of them frowned. "We didn't say anything, Rabbi."

"You said in your hearts that I blaspheme because only God can forgive sin, and it is done by sacrifice at the altar."

Looks of bewilderment crossed their faces.

"You also believe that only God can heal," Yehowshuwa continued, "and the healing is confirmed by a priest at the temple."

The leaders looked down, clearly uncomfortable.

"So is it easier for me to tell him, 'Your sins are forgiven,' or 'Rise up, take your mat, and walk'?"

They shifted uneasily.

"But so you may know I have the authority to forgive sins…"

The paralytic nervously bit down on his lip when Yehowshuwa approached. No doubt causing any manner of debate had been the last thing on his mind when he had awakened that morning. His face became more relaxed when the rabbi gave him a reassuring smile.

"Take your mat back to your home," Yehowshuwa instructed. "You won't be needing it anymore."

The man immediately sat up and swung his legs over the side of the pallet. Pushing off with his hands, he leaped the two cubits or so that he was still hovering above the floor. He then reached up and took the pallet.

"I've got it now," he informed his four friends. "Thank you."

"Don't worry! We'll fix the roof!" one of them answered.

The former paralytic had wanted nothing more than to stand, but before he went his way, he knelt before Yehowshuwa to give thanks, not only for his ability to walk, but also for the forgiveness of his sins.

Like most of his actions, this miracle was an illustration of an important truth. By forgiving the paralytic of whatever sins he may have committed, Yehowshuwa was clearly demonstrating his own identity and purpose as a figurative temple, the sign of God's presence among mankind.

When the rabbi had finished his teaching and the crowd began to disperse, I noticed a centurion had been watching the gathering from a distance.

"Why does he do that?" I wondered aloud.

"To make sure we don't cause a riot," Mattityahu answered. "They have to stand at the back of any large group to make sure no one plots treason or commits a crime."

I nodded.

This centurion looked nothing like the others I had seen with stoic faces and cold eyes. His eyes held a deep sorrow, and although he did his best to stand as straight as a lance, he still slouched. Something had broken the hardened exterior of the gruff soldier, causing him to feel as helpless as any other man.

Although most people ignored him, some politely acknowledged his presence. He paid them no heed. His sorrowful eyes intently watched the road where the former paralytic had walked home.

A soldier of a lesser rank approached. "Sir, I have received word that the temporary replacement should be here tomorrow."

The centurion continued to stare down the road. "The world is a bitterly unfair place."

"Yes, sir."

"I trust you have a good report from the physician?"

"Absolutely, sir. He said it won't be long at all."

The officer's eyes narrowed. "That's hardly a good report! You ought to be flogged and demoted in rank for suggesting such a thing!"

"But, sir, is it not a blessing that he will suffer no longer?"

"Pity we aren't Jews."

"I beg your pardon, sir?"

He sighed. "I want full military honors and professional mourners. I want mimes, music, and actors. I want the ashes placed in an urn that is truly a work of art, and I want his name engraved on it. I want eulogies that make us laugh and weep at his memory. I want the feast to last for days and involve every city in this region. I want every male citizen in a black toga."

The soldier of lower rank stared in disbelief, but he would not dare question his centurion.

"I should be there when it happens so I can comfort him," the officer remarked, "but I cannot bear to be. As long as I am away from home, I have no confirmation that he is no longer with us, so he is alive to me."

"Are you crying, sir?"

"Of course not, you fool! I simply have sweat dripping down my face!"

"Yes, sir. It is hot today."

The following morning, a group of Jewish elders approached us, bowing graciously before Yehowshuwa. They were all speaking at once, so I was confused by their conversation, but of course, the rabbi had no trouble understanding them.

"I will go heal him," he replied.

Now I understood. Someone, presumably a Gentile, had sent leaders among the Jews to speak to Yehowshuwa because he felt it was unfitting that he should do so personally. I wondered if he had told them to plead so earnestly or if they had done so of their own freewill.

When I saw Roman soldiers approaching with a few civilian servants, my heart missed a beat. I wondered if we were facing legal charges.

"I'm glad we found you in time!" one soldier exclaimed. "The centurion respectfully requests that you not come into his house. He says he's not worthy of such a visitor, and he doesn't want your reputation to suffer because he knows you're a Jewish rabbi, and he's a Gentile, a Roman officer, no less."

"What then shall be done for his servant?" Yehowshuwa asked gently.

"He thought of that too. He's been subordinate to many men, but now he's a man in authority. He understands that if he says just one word, he never even considers the matter again because he knows as soon as the word escapes his lips, it will be obeyed at once. We Romans are very strict about submission to our superiors. All it takes is 'Come!' or 'Go!' and that settles everything."

Yehowshuwa nodded to show he understood.

"That's all the centurion asks of you now," the soldier explained. "He says if you will speak only one word, his servant shall be made well at once. No questions. No ceremonies. No rituals. No special prayers. No signs. No doubts. Just one word."

"I have not seen greater faith in all of Yisrael!" the rabbi exclaimed. "The centurion asked for a word, but I will give him a full sentence. Tell him it is done according to his belief."

The soldier sighed with relief. "Thank you so much, sir! He'll be so pleased to hear it! He's been beside himself with grief! He says he would have sent you a gift to show his respect for you, but he didn't want you to think he was trying to buy your favor."

"His faith is gift enough."

I can never forget the day we had a chance to show our faith. Yehowshuwa had told us to cross the lake. The request was simple enough, so we readily agreed.

As we sailed, Thaddai remarked, "Look! The rabbi is asleep. Let's not wake him. He must be exhausted from doing so much good for others."

When I saw Achina's eyes look toward the clouds, I glanced at the sky, immediately wishing I hadn't. Dark clouds were beginning to gather.

Yehudah glared. "I thought you said all would be well! You have betrayed our trust!"

"I said nothing of the kind!" I retorted. "I merely said Yehowshuwa wanted to cross the lake."

"Let's be practical," Piynechac began. "Four men among us are fishermen. I'm certain we can trust them to get us to shore."

"I doubt it!" Taoma muttered.

Yowchanan sighed. "Will you keep silent so we can concentrate?"

As the wind began to pick up speed, Yehowshuwa demonstrated another supernatural feat: He could sleep through anything. Waves buffeted our boat, crashing against the deck so hard that I knew it would be only a matter of time before we sank, yet still he slept on a cushion in the stern.

"Now what?" Yaaqov demanded rhetorically.

"We wake him up and beg for mercy!" replied Achina. "Unless anyone has any better ideas."

None of us did, so we all began to shout for Yehowshuwa to save us before we drowned.

When he awakened, his face held an expression of authority without the slightest trace of alarm. He simply rose to his feet and faced the largest waves.

"Peace!" he commanded. "Be still!"

"Was he talking to the storm or to us?" Piynechac whispered.

The water was calm at once, and for several moments, there wasn't even enough wind for our sails.

Yehowshuwa turned to us, his understanding eyes filled with disappointment. "Why were you so afraid? Don't you have any faith?"

Nathanael gaped in astonishment. "Who is this man? Even the wind and waves obey him!"

I was thoroughly ashamed of myself. We traveled with Yehowshuwa. We heard his sermons. We saw him heal others. We knew he was our Messiah. No one should believe in his power more than we did.

Who had shown more faith than us, his own disciples? A Roman centurion.

I made up my mind that I would not disappoint Yehowshuwa again. If another storm came, I would be ready.


	14. Chapter 14

As I learned later in life, there are some forms of illness that affect a person's mind rather than the body. Some people have uncontrollable spasms of muscles or conditions that make them talk to imaginary beings. These people are not sons of perdition who deserve these ailments because they have sinned. Mental illness can affect strong believers; it is not a sign of a lack of faith, nor is it a condition feigned for sympathy.

However, there are times when an otherwise healthy person is genuinely possessed by the forces of evil, such as the man we met on the other side of the lake. His hair was matted, and his eyes rolled too far back in his head. He came running out of a tomb, wearing broken chains around his wrists and ankles. Judging from the gashes on his arms, he had cut himself with stones.

"What do you want, Son of God?" he shouted in a distorted voice. "Please do not torture us before the appointed time!"

"What is your name?" Yehowshuwa demanded sternly.

"Legion!" The man's saliva dripped from his mouth as foam.

"Come out of him!"

"Do not send us into the abyss!"

I hadn't realized I was hiding behind my brother until he seized my shoulder and dragged me back to my original place by his side. His lips said nothing, but his eyes scolded me for my cowardice.

I glared back. Did he think I was unable to see the pallor of his face? Newly fallen snow was not so void of color!

"Should we pray for protection?" Thaddai asked.

"What for?" Yehudah demanded, crossing his arms to hide his sweating hands. "He's right there!"

"Do not banish us into the abyss before our time!" Legion continued.

Despite the heat of the day, I felt a dreadful chill course through my entire body, causing me to shiver violently. I suspect it was Legion's voice, which was so menacing that it made wolf snarls sound melodic.

"Let us go into the swine!" Legion begged.

"Go now!" Yehowshuwa commanded.

As the man crumpled to the ground, the pigs began to squeal as if they were being butchered. They threw back their heads began running as if the ground hurt their feet. The look in their eyes was darker than that of wild beasts.

Suddenly, the pigs rushed down the steep bank toward the lake. They thrashed in the water until the entire herd eventually drowned.

Meanwhile, the man was panting for breath. Although his lips could not yet form words, his eyes shone with gratitude as he knelt before Yehowshuwa.

"The demons wanted to kill and destroy, and Yehowshuwa gave them the chance," Piynechac remarked.

Mattityahu nodded in agreement. "He probably did it to show us all how dangerous evil spirits are and that we should have nothing to do with them."

Yehudah scoffed. "What fools men are! As soon as swine are overcome with a demon, they drown themselves, but some men purposely seek out evil forces!"

"But since the pigs drowned, aren't the demons in the abyss anyway?" Thaddai queried.

By the time a crowd had gathered, the former demoniac was clothed and in his right mind, sitting patiently at the feet of Yehowshuwa to hear his teachings. I was certain they would ask us to remain with them for several days, but instead, they begged the rabbi to leave.

Achina rolled his eyes. "Now we'll have to sail all the way back across Kinneret!"

"But think of the man who was healed because we came here," Thaddai answered.

Our newest acquaintance had wished to come with us, but Yehowshuwa insisted that he should remain at home and proclaim what God had done for him.

By the time we reached the opposite shore, a large crowd had already gathered. One man pushed his way through the throng and threw himself at the feet of Yehowshuwa. I recognized him as Yaiyr, a leader of the synagogue.

"Please help!" he begged. "My daughter lies at the point of death! She has only seen twelve years of life! If you will come and lay your hand on her brow, I know she will live!"

As we followed him, Yehowshuwa suddenly paused and looked around the crowd. "Who touched me?"

I frowned. "The mob presses in from all sides, and you ask who touched you?"

"Someone has touched the tassel of my hem. I felt power going out of me."

Yaiyr rolled his eyes, blatantly vexed by this delay.

A woman stepped from the crowd, trembling as she knelt. "I have been ill for twelve years, reduced to living in poverty after all I have paid physicians, but when I touched your garment, my impurity was immediately made well."

Yehowshuwa kindly placed his hand on her shoulder. "Go in peace and be healed, daughter. Your faith has made you well."

While he was still speaking, a man from Yaiyr's household approached and began speaking with him in low tones. I thought I heard "too late," but I wasn't sure.

"May as well stop troubling the rabbi," the other man remarked.

"My daughter has just died!" Yaiyr shrieked.

"Don't be afraid," Yehowshuwa answered calmly. "Just believe."

When we arrived at Yaiyr's home, I could already hear the wailing of the girl's bereaved mother.

"She is not dead," Yehowshuwa stated. "She is only asleep."

The entire household was instantly in an uproar. He had yet to see the child, so he had no way of knowing, and furthermore, she had been pronounced dead by a physician who had spent the day tending to her.

"Have everyone leave the house except the girl's parents," he instructed.

Still ridiculing his apparent foolishness, everyone began to gather just outside the door.

"Kephas, Yaaqov, and Yowchanan, come with me."

We followed the rabbi into a room where the young life had been lost. Her body had already grown cold in death.

Yehowshuwa gently took her hand. "Arise, dear child."

Her eyelids fluttered open, and she smiled. "I feel so much better!"

The girl's mother stared, her bottom jaw hanging open.

"It was really pretty! Will I get to go there again?"

"When you're much older," Yehowshuwa answered.

The mother looked as if she might swoon at any moment.

"How about if your mother gets you something to eat?"

The child's eyes sparkled. "I would love that! I couldn't eat much when I was sick!"

Her mother managed to nod and slowly made her way to the table.

Yaiyr seized his daughter and pulled her into a close embrace. He was unable to move or speak; he just held her as if he were afraid she would vanish at any moment.

Unfortunately, not everyone was resurrected. Just as many of the prophets of old were killed for proclaiming the messages God had laid in their hearts, the Baptizer was beheaded.

"I don't understand," Thaddai remarked. "Some prophets have been sawn in half. Some were beaten to death with stones. The Baptizer has been decapitated."

Yehudah shrugged. "What don't you understand about it?"

"Daniyyel was spared when he was cast into the den of lions. Surely it wasn't because he had more faith than the other prophets. Yonah was also saved from drowning, and he was in the process of disobeying God."

"Not for us to know," Piynechac answered. "Some people die peacefully of old age. Others die violently in their youth. I'm not even going to pretend to know why, but I do know it's none of our concern. God has his reasons, even if we don't understand them."

"Not much comfort to the grieving families, is it?" replied Yehudah. "How would you feel if you were sentenced to a violent death, and your only consolation was that God had his reasons?"

Even now, I have more questions than answers about death.


	15. Chapter 15

After the Baptizer's demise, Yehowshuwa wished to withdraw to Bethsaida, so we set sail. Kinneret was calm and smooth, so progress was slow.

Achina and I were even more talkative than usual, for we had many dear memories of our home. We spoke of naughty deeds we had done as children and problems we had overcome as men, telling jokes that our own relatives had often made.

"You act as if you've been exiled to some distant land for years!" Yaaqov the Younger remarked. "A grown man could walk from Capernaum to Bethsaida in an hour!"

Word of mouth apparently traveled faster than we did. By the time we reached our destination, a crowd had already gathered.

"Do they not understand the meaning of personal time?" Shimown the Zealot crossed his arms. "We can't move two steps without being mobbed!"

"But they are like sheep in need of a shepherd," Yehowshuwa answered. "We must help them before they are destroyed by wolves."

I had seen that look in his eyes many times. Greater was his compassion for others than his desire to spend time by himself.

Accurately had he compared the crowd to sheep. Wherever he went, the multitude followed. By the time we reached the side of a mountain, there was a massive crowd.

"I'd estimate about five thousand men," Mattityahu remarked, "maybe ten to twenty thousand people if you count women and children."

As was his custom, Yehowshuwa began teaching the people and healing those among them who were sick. He blessed the children and answered questions for the scholars.

One of the people who pressed nearer was a young man, perhaps about Achina's age. To my surprise, he wore the toga of a Roman citizen.

"What could he possibly want?" Yaaqov wondered aloud. "He looks the picture of health!"

Seeing his hesitation, Yehowshuwa beckoned him closer. " _Salve! Valesne?_ "

" _Si vales, valeo_." The Roman's smile was nearly too large for his face. "I'm surprised you speak Latin!"

"Surprised?"

"I had heard that the followers of this Jewish Messiah were mostly uneducated men," he explained.

"And you seek a man among his followers?" Yehowshuwa asked.

"I would like to see this Messiah himself. I owe him my life." After a pause, he added, "I don't even know his name, nor does my master…former master, I mean."

"Oh? So what do you call him?"

" _Dominus et Deus noster._ "

Yehowshuwa smiled. "And your former master?"

"A valiant centurion, yet a kind man," the Roman explained. "A diplomat who gradually turned monotheist."

"I see."

He wiped sweat from his brow. "Sorry. It's a bit warm today, and I'm not used to wearing a toga yet. Auxiliary soldiers aren't actually Roman citizens, and even if we were, the toga is a garment of peace, so soldiers don't wear them during their time of service. I wouldn't have one at all, but I was honorably discharged at the onset of my illness and granted citizenship at the return of my health."

The rabbi nodded to show he understood.

"I want to find the Messiah so I can thank him for healing me, but if he will forgive me for being needy, I have two more requests."

"He surely knows all humans have needs," Yehowshuwa answered. "What more do you ask of the Messiah?"

"That I may serve him in this world and join him in the next."

"Then you are greatly blessed this day, for he is about to speak to the crowd about receiving eternal life. You will hear how he can save your soul, not merely your life."

Overcome with joy, the Roman threw his arms around Yehowshuwa in an embrace. " _Multas gratias tibi ago!_ I can't tell you how greatly my heart rejoices to hear it! The only thing that would make me happier is speaking with the Messiah himself! I want to sit close to your group so I don't miss a word of his next message!"

Yehowshuwa returned the embrace for several moments. Afterwards, he kindly gestured to a small opening in the crowd where the man could stand. When the rabbi sat down and began to preach, the Roman's eyes were wider than Kinneret during a flood, his face paler than alabaster.

After he had finished his sermon, Yehowshuwa noted the angle of the sun. "Where shall we buy bread for these people to eat?"

Piynechac shook his head. "Half a year's wages would not be enough for everyone to have the smallest bite! We are in a remote place. Send the people to the surrounding villages so they can buy food before it grows dark."

The rabbi had an amused smile, as if he knew something we didn't. "You give them something to eat."

Achina rubbed his chin in thought. "I guess we could have Kephas catch one of his famous rocks large enough to feed the Roman Empire."

I glared at him.

"What is it?" my brother demanded, looking down at the child who had tugged on the hem of his sleeve.

"I didn't mean to interrupt, sirs," the boy began, "but I heard that you needed some bread. You can have mine."

Nathanael threw back his head in hearty laughter at the pitiful sight of a child with a small handbasket. If everyone did nothing more than lick a piece of food without tasting the smallest crumb, it would still vanish before the majority of the people even knew of its existence.

Yehudah crossed his arms and demanded, "Is this your idea of a joke?"

Yehowshuwa approached. "Did I hear that someone wishes to share his bread?"

"Not nearly enough to be passed among so many!" Achina responded.

"How much do we have?"

"This boy offers five loaves and two fish."

"And what did you offer?"

We instantly fell silent.

"Bring me the basket."

The child did so.

Yehowshuwa smiled graciously. "My child, I thank you for your faith and your willingness to be of service. Great is your reward."

He gently took the basket from the boy's hands and instructed us to have everyone sit in groups. Looking toward Heaven, he gave thanks and blessed the food. He then broke the bread.

"Give me your food baskets."

The baskets we carried had long since been emptied, but we each stood before Yehowshuwa and allowed him to fill our baskets with food.

"Distribute this among the groups."

No matter how many times I carried my basket to the waiting crowds, the Messiah always filled it as soon as I returned to him. We spent well over an hour bringing food to every person, and they could all eat as much as they wanted.

However, when everyone was finally satiated, all twelve of our baskets were full, and the little boy's basket still had more food in it than when he had first given it to Yehowshuwa.

As the rabbi dismissed the crowd, he told us to go ahead of him. He wished to pray alone for a while.

The night was perfect for sailing. Kinneret's dark waters were calm enough to reflect the myriads of stars.

"So this is what you do for fun?" Yehudah nodded his approval. "Fishing must be the easiest job in the world."

"Absolutely!" I retorted. "Nothing like the peaceful feeling of knowing a storm could arise any moment without warning and drown you! Nothing more relaxing than being awake all night, hauling in heavy loads until your arms feel they'll fall off, and then having to scrutinize every last cord of your net the following morning!"

"All this time, and I still think of Nuwn," Yaaqov confessed. "I can't forget the terror in his eyes as he realized his inevitable fate!"

"A friend of yours?" Thaddai asked kindly.

We explained what had happened in our youth.

"We never could find the body," Achina concluded.

"The wind is changing," Yowchanan remarked. "We'll have to grab oars."

To save our strength, we took turns rowing. We soon gave up any hope of our original course, deciding we would be grateful to reach land, wherever it may be.

It took us all night to row the distance a man could walk in less than an hour on land. In the gray light just before dawn, we saw a strange figure on the water. It seemed to be coming closer.

"What is it?" Taoma queried. "A heron?"

"Of course!" I exclaimed. "Herons just love wading in choppy water that would go over their heads if they stood in it!"

"Maybe we're just seeing things because we're exhausted," Mattityahu suggested.

"Doubtful," answered Taoma. "If that were the case, we'd all see different things."

Yowchanan mentioned the possibility the rest of us were afraid to voice. "It's the ghost of Nuwn, come to drag us into the depths with him!"

"I don't believe in ghosts!" Taoma retorted stubbornly.

"You don't believe in anything!" Achina muttered under his breath.

We watched the figure as it approached. Now it was close enough that we could see its distinctly human shape.

"No!" Taoma exclaimed. "It can't be! When a man dies, he cannot rise from his grave!"

"Forgive us, Nuwn!" Yaaqov shouted into the wind. "We tried to find your body!"

"Never fear!" the figure answered. "It is I!"

I knew that voice! I would never be able to forget it.

"It's the Lord," I reassured my companions.

"The rabbi?" Taoma crossed his arms in front of his chest. "That's even more ridiculous than your ghost story! Why would he want to cross rough water on foot when we don't even enjoy crossing it by boat?"

"He does whatever he wishes," I replied. "He's the Messiah."

I could tell from the way he shook his head that Taoma still didn't believe me. I was too exhausted from a long night adrift to have a pointless quarrel, and I resolved to end the matter in an instant.

"Lord!" I called. "If it is indeed you, let me join you on the water!"

The figure extended its arm. "Come!"

Before I could process the full realization of what I was doing, I stepped out of the boat. I felt a solid surface beneath my feet, even though the soles of my sandals were wet, much like walking down the road on a rainy day.

What was I doing? I had seen these same waves kill a man. I had heard of countless other drownings. Even I had nearly drowned when I was a young boy. I would be in enough danger challenging Kinneret without a storm, but now that the waves were…

My thoughts were interrupted as I felt the waters close in above my head, but before I had time to panic, I felt a swift tug on my outstretched hand. I was instantly above the waves.

"You of little faith! Why did you doubt?" Yehowshuwa asked.

I hung my head in shame. "I failed you again, Lord. I see the disappointment in your eyes."

He gripped my shoulder reassuringly. "I don't expect perfection from those who step out in faith, and I will always be there to catch them when they falter. However, I am indeed disappointed that only one of my twelve disciples had enough faith to leave the boat. Don't the others believe I am who I claim to be? Have they not seen the wind and sea obey me, yet they fear the power of the waves more than they trust my own power?"

Judging from the looks on the eleven other faces, they had heard Yehowshuwa's speech clearly. They looked especially uncomfortable when the wind and waves became calm as soon as the Messiah took his seat in the boat.

"I never doubted you for an instant!" Taoma remarked.

Yehowshuwa made no reply.

"Now I know why he calls you Kephas," Achina told me. "You sank like a rock! Kind of like those rocks you always catch in your net! If you had drowned, would the rabbi have raised you from the dead?"

I leaned over the side of the boat enough to splash a handful of water on my brother.

Achina glared for a moment, but then he shrugged. "I guess I deserved that." He gripped my shoulder. "I'm actually proud of you."

"You are?"

He nodded. "I've never seen a more dramatic baptism in all my life!"

I slapped his arm.

"You're sure in trouble when he starts baptizing us with fire! Will we have to walk on hot coals, only to sink into the fiery depths of the abyss?"

I rolled my eyes. Leave it to my older brother to make light of my strongest test of faith! I only wish other tests had not followed.


	16. Chapter 16

No one could ever describe all the miracles of Yehowshuwa, for not only did he perform so many during his time walking among us in physical form, but he also did many signs and wonders before his birth as a human infant. However, of all the miracles we ever witnessed, the one that most astonished me was for the sake of a Samaritan.

The man's reddened face was drenched in sweat, but he still approached us at a brisk gait. His donkey, which he led on a rope, was carrying a large pile of what appeared to be torn garments.

When I noticed the Samaritan's eyes drift over to my canteen of water, I scowled. Give water to a Samaritan who was impatient to wash his robes? I would sooner die!

"Forgive me." He gasped for breath. "I do not mean to interrupt your gathering, but I seek the rabbi called Yehowshuwa."

"I am he," Yehowshuwa answered. "What can I do for you?"

The Samaritan breathed a sigh of relief. "Praise God I have found you at last! Please, sir, I beg you to heal this Jew I found by the side of the road. He must have been beset by robbers. As I drew near, I noticed a group of Pharisees pass by him, but none stopped to help."

I was so startled by what I had heard that I inhaled too sharply and began choking. Achina had to strike me on the back to help me breathe.

When I looked closer at the robes on the donkey's back, I noticed that the bundle was indeed an injured man. The cloth binding his wounds was the same color as the Samaritan's head covering, which seemed far shorter than most.

"How fortunate you were traveling this way!" Yaaqov remarked. "If you'd been destined for a town in the opposite direction…!"

"I was," the Samaritan answered, "but I couldn't just leave him there."

"I doubt he would have helped you!" responded Taoma.

Meanwhile, Yehowshuwa gently touched the shoulder of the man who lay crumpled on the donkey. The robbers' victim immediately sat up and looked around in confusion.

"Where am I?" he queried. "How did I get here? Who are all of you?"

"I found you by the side of the road," the Samaritan explained. "I brought you to the rabbi so you could be healed."

The formerly injured man was unable to speak. His face held a combination of gratitude and astonishment.

"Why did you take pity on me?" he finally managed to ask.

The other man shrugged. "When we stand before almighty God on our deathbeds, will he ask if we were Jews or Samaritans?"

"He will remember your act of compassion," Yehowshuwa stated. "No doubt he will use it as an example to others."

"I hope not!" the Samaritan replied. "There would be too great a risk that other people would tell the story to celebrate my greatness rather than to glorify God. It would be better if certain details were changed and our names were withheld."

The rabbi nodded sagely.

No longer able to bear my selfishness, I thrust my canteen into the Samaritan's hand. "Drink all you wish."

"Are you certain you have enough?" he asked gently.

I could have crawled beneath a rock and perished of shame. He had traveled several hours in the opposite direction of his destination to seek help for a stranger of an abhorred people, and he still used courtesy. When I had first seen him, I had immediately wished him ill and selfishly thought only of preserving my canteen from the enemy.

Yehowshuwa often used real events to inspire his parables, such as the time he noticed a white patch of fluff in the bushes. As we got closer, I noticed that the patch was actually the fleece of a lamb, which Yehowshuwa took into his arms.

"Why do we need a sheep?" Mattityahu asked.

"Perhaps it may prove useful," the rabbi commented, seating himself in the shade of the nearest tree. "Let us wait and see what happens."

In less than a quarter of an hour, a young man approached our group. When he saw the sheep, a smile crossed his exhausted face.

"Sirs, I believe you have my father's sheep," he began. "I have no coins to pay you for your trouble, but perhaps there is some manner of work I could do."

Yehowshuwa patted the ground beside him. "Join us, friend. We were just making conversation to pass the time."

The man sat under the tree. "I can't stay long. I must return this lamb to my father."

"It must be his favorite."

The man turned his head in shame.

He explained that his name was Gereshown, and several months ago, he had grown tired of tending livestock. Wishing to move to a larger city and become a great man, he had approached his father and asked for his inheritance.

The father had been deeply hurt. "You wish me dead already, my son?"

"I didn't expect you to understand!" Gereshown retorted.

He flung many harsh words at his father, who patiently tried to dissuade him from bringing himself to harm, but the father eventually relented.

Life in the city was nothing like Gereshown expected. Within weeks, he had lost his entire fortune to gambling and harlots. His confidence waned, for although he stood daily with the other laborers, no one would hire him. In desperation, he began eating unclean food. He even tried eating seed pods that humans were unable to digest.

"My father lives in relative prosperity," Gereshown concluded. "I thought of hiring myself out as his shepherd, but as I approached his home last night, I noticed one sheep wasn't in the fold. When I tried to catch it, the lamb ran away. I've been praying all night that I would find it before the wolves did. I thought if I could prove to my father that I've learned to be more responsible, that I would go after even the smallest lamb, that he would be impressed enough to let me serve him."

Yehowshuwa nodded, but his eyes were on an approaching figure farther down the road. "What will become of you if he does not take you as a shepherd?"

Gereshown's eyes widened. "But he must! It's all I know how to do! What else could he make of me?"

"My son!" The figure drew nearer, revealing itself to be an elderly man. "I go out to find my lamb, and I find my son!"

Holding out the sheep, Gereshown began to explain, "I found your lost sheep, Abayi. I know how much it means to you, and…"

The father threw his arms around his son, nearly crushing the sheep between them. "We must give praise to God for this joyous day! We will gather all our neighbors and slay the fatted calf!"

Gereshown lowered his head. "I'm so ashamed of all I've done."

"Not another word, my son."

Yehowshuwa smiled as the two walked away, the father stopping every passerby to announce that God had answered his prayers and returned his son.

"What was he thinking?" Piynechac wondered aloud. "Bears and lions that prey on sheep could also kill a man. He could have lost his life for that wayward sheep!"

The rabbi made no reply.

"I'm so happy that the father forgave his son!" Thaddai remarked. "But why did the son think himself less valuable than the sheep?"

"Because he knew how greatly he had sinned against his father!" Yehudah answered. "The lamb was innocent!"

Yehowshuwa always did seem to enjoy interacting with shepherds. He watched one man send out his dog among the flock. The dog then began meticulously separating the sheep from the goats.

Noticing that we were watching, the shepherd remarked, "I usually let them all graze together, but when it comes time to shear them, it's easier this way."

The rabbi nodded. "And how have you been, Nechemya Bar-Osher? It's been so long since we last met."

Nechemya stared in disbelief.

"Is this dog descended from your beloved Ahuva? Such an intelligent dog she was, very gentle and patient."

"Grandson." He frowned. "How do you know about Ahuva?"

"She gave her life for the flock," Yehowshuwa continued. "Not one sheep was lost that night. Was it not the same night you lost half the smallest finger on your right hand?"

"Indeed. I'll never forget…" Nechemya crossed his arms. "Who are you? How do you know so much about my flock?"

"You haven't lived here your whole life," the rabbi stated. "When you were a boy, you lived in Bethlehem. You tended the temple's flock of sheep with your father. One night, as you were out with the flock, you saw a multitude of angels announce the birth of the Messiah."

"Yes! We went to see him. You may not know this, but he's supposedly ministering here. I keep hoping to find him again and let him know we met when he was a baby."

"I certainly wish you luck in your search."

Yehowshuwa cordially shook hands with the shepherd, who realized only as we turned to go that his lost finger had been restored. He tried to express his gratitude, but he was so astonished that he was unable to form coherent words.

Most rabbis taught with humor, and Yehowshuwa was no exception. He always had his own special ways of making jests when appropriate, such as when the Greek man limped toward our group after a sermon.

"Welcome, seeker of knowledge!" the rabbi greeted. "How is your foot?"

The Greek's eyes widened. "In my native tongue, the words for knowing something and having a swollen foot are similar."

"Indeed. One of your playwrights took full advantage of the pun over four centuries ago."

"Yes, well, I'm pleased to report I'm nothing like the poor wretch Sophokles described. I injured my foot in the mines years ago."

Yehowshuwa nodded.

"Can you heal it?"

The rabbi pretended to consider the matter. "Are you certain it would be proper for a Greek to accept help from a barbarian?"

The other man's face reddened.

"I suppose I could try. Did you bring the votive?" He winked.

"But you aren't like the gods I used to serve," the Greek replied. "You are Khristos."

Yehowshuwa smiled. "Which foot did you injure?"

"The left. You can see how it's distorted."

"It looks well enough to me."

The Greek looked down to see his left foot as healthy as his right.

While he gave thanks, I muttered to myself, confused about the votive. Mattityahu overheard me, and being an educated man, he explained that when people of other religions fell ill, they made a small clay tablet, about the size of a coin, and designed it with a picture of the body part that was affected. They would then bring this votive to the temple and place it before their gods.

Yehowshuwa had been testing to see what the Greek truly believed about him. I only wish other men had not been so eager to test us concerning our beliefs.


	17. Chapter 17

"Who do others say I am?" Yehowshuwa asked one day.

"Some say the Baptizer or Eliyyahu," Piynechac answered. "Any of the former prophets."

"And you? Who do you say I am?"

"The Messiah," I answered. "You are the Son of the living God."

"Blessed are you Shimown Bar-Yonah!" he exclaimed. "The answer has been revealed to you by my Father in Heaven." After a pause, he asked, "And do you know who you are?"

The question surprised me so greatly that I experienced one of the few times in my life when I had no reply.

"You are Kephas," the rabbi continued, "for upon this rock shall I build my church, and Hell shall not prevail against it."

I may have been called Kephas, but I was only one rock among many, Yehowshuwa being our cornerstone. Then again, perhaps he meant the truth about his identity was the foundation on which he built his church.

Contrary to popular belief, when Yehowshuwa declared that he would give me the keys to Heaven, he did not mean I would spend my afterlife standing outside a gate. He meant my proclamation of his message would figuratively open the door to those who responded in faith. The same is true of any believer who preaches the words of our Lord.

Yehowshuwa taught us that the greatest is actually whoever has the heart of a servant and the faith of a child. He always loved children, and he frequently gave them his blessings. We always felt he was too busy and had far more important things to do, but he always welcomed the children into his arms.

In our culture, fathers would bring children to the synagogue for a blessing by the elders, who would pray that the child would be famous in the Law, faithful in marriage, and abundant in good works. Pharisees and scribes never touched anyone, for contact with someone less holy would defile them.

Yehowshuwa had his own way of praying a blessing on the children. He would touch their heads or hands. He never even shirked when they sat on his lap or wrapped their arms around his neck. I lost count of how many times his robe carried the residue left by sticky hands or faces that had crumbs everywhere.

It was chaotic enough when Jewish parents brought their children for the traditional blessing, but at some point during Yehowshuwa's three years of earthly ministry, Gentiles began to get the idea that their children were also welcome.

One girl was walking with her mother when she noticed the gathering of children around Yehowshuwa. She tugged on her mother's hand and said something in a foreign tongue, and her mother nodded.

To my horror, the child came running, jubilantly holding out a flower that looked as if it had begun to wilt hours ago. Yehowshuwa graciously accepted the dead flower, set the child on his lap, and spoke her native language.

"Celtic, wasn't it?" Yaaqov the Younger asked as the child ran back to her mother.

Yehowshuwa nodded. "She has seen past ethnic and cultural boundaries to come to me, and she wanted to show me the beauty of God's creation. Since it means so much to her, she will do it for the rest of her days. She will walk among other peoples and stand amazed at landscapes she could never have imagined. Her life will not always be easy, but the adventures will be incredible, and the rewards will be great, and when she walks among lions, they will not harm her."

Seeing that nothing bad had happened to the Celtic child, a Nubian boy decided to try his luck. His accent was so heavy that although he spoke Aramaic, I was unable to understand a word he said. Yehowshuwa, however, had no trouble at all.

"You have quickly learned a new tongue and are eager to speak with me," he remarked. "So be it. You shall speak with many people. They will gather in large numbers to hear you share my message. You will rise above your struggles, and they shall become testimonies of my grace and deliverance. Your friends shall also be of different cultures, for you too have seen that all are beloved of God."

I could hardly believe my eyes when a Roman woman carried her baby girl to meet Yehowshuwa.

"I know I am not of your culture," the woman stated, "but I would be honored if you would bless my daughter."

The infant buried her head in her mother's shoulder.

Yehowshuwa gently placed his hand on the child's back. "You are afraid because you don't know me, but I grant you peace. When you struggle with worry, you will remember the peace I have given you this day, and you will tell others about it. As your mother has tenderly cared for you, so shall you care for other children, and as she has spoken to me on your behalf, so shall you speak to others on my behalf. Don't be afraid when I ask you to deliver my message. Remember the peace."

By now, the baby had become so relaxed that she grabbed the rabbi's face when he took her into his arms and gave her a light kiss on top of the head.

As Yehowshuwa was finishing his prayers over the regular crowd of Jewish children, I saw something that made my blood run cold. A Samaritan man was carrying his young son on his shoulders. Why was he here instead of in Samaria?

No matter. If we ignored him, he would continue on his way. No doubt he hated being here as much as we hated his presence.

When he was a short distance from Yehowshuwa, the man lifted his little child from his shoulders and set him on the ground. I gasped in horror as the boy toddled over to the rabbi.

"You would overcome such great trouble just to sit at my feet?" Yehowshuwa asked.

The boy raised his arms. "Up."

As always, the rabbi was happy to comply. "I know why your father has brought you for a blessing, even though he is a Samaritan who knows I am a Jew. He was among those who became believers when I was in Samaria. He doesn't want to cause trouble, but he does want you to have my blessing, and so you shall."

The father nodded in acknowledgement and gratitude.

"You will help many people, both in deed and in prayer. You will grow strong and protect your nation, but you will return safely to your wife and children, and your struggle shall not last forever. You will dwell in your own land in peace, and you will make sturdy tents for others in your land."

It seemed there was no escape from the Samaritans, no matter where we went. On our way to a village, we were greeted by a group of ten lepers, a mixed group of Jews and Samaritans, united by the common disease. The stench of their rotting caused me to retch, but Yehowshuwa welcomed them.

"Have mercy on us, Lord!" they pleaded.

"Go show yourselves to the priest," he instruction.

He had sent them to the priest without even saying they were healed. It was a tremendous step of faith, but they eagerly obeyed.

Less than an hour later, one of them returned and fell on his knees before Yehowshuwa. His lips were unable to form words, but his eyes shed tears.

"Is there something more I can do for you?" Yehowshuwa asked kindly.

"I only want to thank you," the man answered. "The priest pronounced me clean. Praise be to almighty God! I can be with my family again! Thank you, my Lord! Glory to God! Not only have I been healed, but I have truly met the Messiah!"

The rabbi frowned. "I thought there were ten lepers. Where are the other nine? And this one is a Samaritan!" He gently touched the man's shoulder. "Go your way in peace, Binyamin Bar-Kelev. Your faith has made you well."

He always did the unexpected. I'll never forget the day I watched a masterful weaver at his craft. His hands flew over the loom, turning vibrant colors into beautiful cloth.

"You have talent," I remarked. "No doubt your art will earn a fine price."

"Thank you. I was afraid I'd forgotten my skill over the years."

"How is that possible?"

"About four years ago," he began, "I got an eye infection that doctors were unable to cure. My vision grew worse by the day. Until this morning, I was entirely blind." He smiled. "Now I can work for honest wages instead of beg for scraps."

I witnessed another unusual scene. A young man waited patiently until a harpist finished his song. Then he humbly approached.

"Please, sir, will you teach me?" the boy asked.

The harpist tilted his head. "You've watched me play since you were little more than an infant. Why did you not speak to me until now?"

"You see, sir," the young man began, "I was born deaf and mute. I watched you stroke your harp, and I wondered why everyone gathered around you. Now I know. This is the first time I've ever heard music, and I can't imagine anything more beautiful!"

One of the rabbi's most surprising miracles occurred when we heard that Elazar had fallen ill. Rather than speaking a word from a distance, as he had with the centurion's servant, Yehowshuwa went personally to visit.

Elazar and his sisters, Marta and Miryam, were friends of our group. Yehowshuwa often visited their home, and they sometimes traveled with us. The sisters were complete opposites. Marta was so concerned with demonstrating hospitality by serving her guests that she forgot to interact with them, and Miryam would often get so involved interacting with her guests that she forgot to see to their needs.

By the time we arrived in Bethania, Elazar had already left this world. Mourners had gathered outside his tomb. The sisters kept repeating that if Yehowshuwa had only arrived sooner, Elazar would not have died.

Yehowshuwa wept. He shed tears because his own heart was always broken when he saw the pain of others. He wept because even though he was in the midst of them, the people around him still lacked faith.

He cried because he knew he was giving his life for Elazar. Raising his friend from the grave would cause the religious leaders to take action against Yehowshuwa. His own death was less approaching quickly, this horrendous punishment that was our only hope for redemption.

Above all, he mourned the sin of mankind and its penalty of death. There were many souls who would never join him in Paradise, condemned instead to eternal suffering.

Finally, Yehowshuwa dried his tears and shouted, "Elazar, come forth!"

From deep within the tomb, there was the sound of shuffling. A wrapped figure slowly made its way to the entrance. Marta's face had turned pale, and Miryam looked as if she might swoon at any moment.

"Unwrap him."

Although Miryam and Marta were overjoyed, Elazar seemed exasperated. No doubt he had been at rest in a world without suffering, and now he had returned to the problems of our world, knowing that before he could return to the afterlife, he would have to suffer another illness or serious injury.

Zakkai, on the other hand, eagerly welcomed being called back from the dead. Then again, his death was only of his reputation, not his physical body.

He was a shrewd man, so when he heard that the Messiah would be passing through Yericho, Zakkai thought to observe Yehowshuwa from a distance. He would discover the truth about this man whose renown preceded him so greatly.

Unfortunately, all Zakkai's wealth could not help him cut a better figure among his fellow men. They all despised him since he was a wealthy supervisor among tax collectors, so they refused to let him pass. He was also a youth, not yet at his full height.

In a matter of moments, Zakkai had devised a clever plan. He would run ahead and conceal himself in the branches of the nearest tree. Having hidden himself from the prying eyes of the crowd, he would be free to observe Yehowshuwa at leisure and draw his own conclusions.

There was only one flaw with his strategy: The plans of mankind are a source of amusement to God whenever he needs a good laugh.

Yehowshuwa looked directly up into the tree. "Never have I seen a more unusual bird!"

Zakkai's eyes widened as he realized he had been discovered.

"Is this what a host does when preparing for his guest?"

The tax collector was so startled that he nearly fell from his branch.

"Come down, Zakkai. I was just on my way to your home."

"At once!" He began clambering down the tree. "If I'd known you were coming, I would have prepared properly, but of course, you're most welcome!"

One man in the crowd whispered, "Lord, you may not be aware of this, but he's a tax collector."

"So is Mattityahu," Yehowshuwa answered.

The crowd had already begun to murmur about the rabbi associating with sinners. Apparently, they had all excluded themselves from the same description.

"I'm now what I seem!" Zakkai protested. "I give half my earnings to the poor, and when I take anything falsely, I restore fourfold!"

Mattityahu thought a moment. "So you believe only one coin of every eight is dishonest?"

"Fewer than that! A man can't make a living if he gives away all his property in restoration!"

I was beginning to notice a pattern. A Roman centurion had been commended for his faith. A Samaritan had been the only man of ten former lepers to return to thank a Jewish rabbi for his healing. A wealthy tax collector claimed he strove to be an honest man.

Then there were the Pharisees. As religious leaders, they should have been the most welcoming of the Messiah. They knew the prophecies better than the rest of us, yet most of them had no time for Yehowshuwa unless it was to falsely accuse him of blasphemy, yet even among the Pharisees, there were still believers. People were rarely what they seemed.


	18. Chapter 18

I heard the donkey before I saw it. Her bray carried all the way to the end of the street.

"Is any sound worse than a donkey's braying?" Yowchanan asked.

I considered the matter. "A rooster's crow. Not only is it loud and harsh, but it also signals a day of work."

The donkey watched us intently as we approached and began untying her. She was a shaggy beast the color of mud, but her eyes were bright.

"What are you doing?" a passerby demanded.

"The Lord has need of these animals," Yowchanan explained. "We will return them shortly."

"The Lord wishes to borrow them? Then by all means!"

We brought the animals to where Yehowshuwa was waiting. As the Messiah rode into Yerushalayim, people cast their cloaks before him. Others waved palm branches or threw them in front Yehowshuwa. The crowd hailed him with shouts of joy.

"Blessed is the King who comes in the name of the Lord!"

"Glory in the highest!"

One of the religious leaders crossed his arms. "Can't you silence them?"

"If I do," Yehowshuwa responded, "the rocks will shout praises."

He spent a few days teaching in the temple, but first, he once again had to cleanse it of moneychangers, just as he had at the beginning of his ministry.

The worst night of my life began normally enough. Yowchanan and I were sent to find a man carrying a jar of water. When we had followed him a short distance, he went into a house. I rapped on the door.

A stout man with a short beard answered. "Yes?"

"The rabbi says his appointed time is near, and he has come to take Passover in your guestroom," I explained.

"Of course. Come in."

The room was furnished, and a table had already been prepared. Everything looked perfect, but I sensed something was wrong, like the heaviness of the air before a storm.

When we had all gathered, we prepared to feast on the stewed lentils, bitter herbs in fish sauce, unleavened bread, lamb, dates, and wine. The day had been rather hot, and our dusty feet were sweating in our sandals.

Any of us could have offered to grab the water basin and the towel. We could have taken turns, each man washing his own feet. However, we were freeborn men. None of us would even think of doing a task meant for the lowest slave in the household.

I could have died of shame when Yehowshuwa picked up the pitcher of water. When he knelt before me, I quickly pulled my feet out of reach.

"Why would you do such a thing?" I demanded incredulously. "You should not be kneeling before me, especially not for such a menial task! It is I who should kneel before you in humble service!"

"You do not understand now, but you will later," he replied.

"I know sometimes you demonstrate a task to illustrate your teaching," I answered, "but you shall never wash my feet!"

"If I don't, you will have no part with me."

"Then my hands and head as well!"

Yehowshuwa chuckled as he loosened the strap of my sandal. "You are clean already, Kephas. You need only wash your feet."

I felt my face grow hot with shame. I could have at least removed my own sandals! Why did I have to be first? Couldn't he at least have washed my feet when the water in the basin was already dirty from eleven other pairs?

"If we run out of wine, perhaps we can use this to make more," he jested.

Ten of the remaining men looked as if they felt as uncomfortable as I did when Yehowshuwa moved on to their feet. Most looked away, unable to watch what he was doing. I couldn't tell how Yehudah was feeling, for his face was buried in his hands.

As we ate, the rabbi's previous humor faded, and he became grave. He looked as if he might easily begin weeping at any moment.

Finally, he announced, "One of you will betray me."

We gasped in horror. Who would do such a thing? Why would anyone betray the Messiah, the Son of God? What harm had he ever done?

Sadly, we all sensed our own weakness. Instead of resting assured that surely someone else was the traitor, we all began wondering aloud the same question: "Is it I?"

Yehowshuwa dipped a piece of bread into the common bowl. It was a tradition among the Jews to offer a piece of dipped bread to a dear friend or family member.

He handed the bread to Yehudah. "Do it quickly."

We gave the matter no thought. After all, Yehudah was always being sent on errands. Perhaps he had been instructed previously to give money to the poor or go buy more food for the feast.

I would like nothing more than to ignore my own fault on the worst day of my life, but I will deny it no longer. If there was a prize given to the worst of sinners, I would be one of the final contestants.

Yehowshuwa knew of my sin before it was committed. He had seen the wickedness in my heart, yet he had washed my feet anyway.

First he broke the bread and explained that it was his body, broken for us. Then he took the cup of wine, and as we all drank, he said it was the blood of the new covenant, shed for many.

"All of you will stumble this night," he concluded sorrowfully. "You will scatter like sheep when the shepherd is stricken."

I could scarcely believe what I was hearing. How could I stumble? I was a true fisherman, brash and fearless. Surely I could never falter. Could I?

No, it was impossible! If all others fell away like helpless sheep, I would never leave! In the face of prison, or even death, I would loyally follow my Lord!

"Kephas."

I cleared my throat. "My Lord, did I speak any of my thoughts aloud?"

"Most of them." Yehowshuwa sighed. "Before the rooster crows, you will deny me three times."

Naturally, I denied his claim. The others followed suit.


	19. Chapter 19

What a pathetic group we were! Yehudah still had not returned, so Yehowshuwa instructed eight of our group to sit in the garden while he prayed. He then told Yowchanan, Yaaqov, and myself to follow him a short distance and keep watch while he prayed.

I still remembered all the times Abayi and Emmi had reminded me that God was watching over us. I remembered how closely Yehowshuwa watched me as I walked out to him on the water, catching me at once when I began to sink.

Now he asked the three of us to keep watch for him. It would be a small way to show our gratitude. Surely it wasn't too much to ask that we spend an hour doing for him what he had done for us our whole lives.

How did we repay his vigilance over us? We all fell asleep. Once would have been shameful enough, but we fell asleep three times.

I have no memory of what happened next, but Achina told me later that when I saw Yehowshuwa arrested, I cut off a man's ear. His name was Malchus, and he was the servant of Caiaphas, the high priest. One of the rabbi's final miracles during his earthly ministry was healing the man, correcting the mistake I had made.

I must have fled with my brother. One moment, I was in the garden. The next, I was panting for breath in an alley while Achina stared at me as if I were a madman.

"Did I forsake him?" I asked, afraid to hear the answer.

He sighed sadly. "We all did."

I groaned. Would I ever learn? What was that old saying Abayi always quoted about cowards having the biggest mouths? Then again, it might have been about fools having the loudest voices. I couldn't remember.

"Where is Yehowshuwa now?" I asked.

"High priest's house, I think."

"That's not too far from here."

"Be careful."

I nodded.

When I saw a group of people around a fire in the courtyard, I sat among them. It was the perfect ruse. I could learn what had happened to Yehowshuwa, and no one would ever suspect anything.

One servant girl stoked the fire, causing a sudden flare to illuminate my face. I stared intently at the flames, seemingly uninterested in anything else.

"I've seen your face before," she remarked. "You were with Yehowshuwa in the temple."

"You must be mistaken," I replied. "I've never even met him."

I was frightened. What would happen to me if the truth were discovered?

Besides, I had to lie. It was the only way for me to remain at my post. I was determined to find out what would happen to the rabbi, no matter what.

I kept my head down so no one else would see my face in the flickering light. After a while, another man came to sit by the fire. I paid him no heed. Many people were coming and going, and their business was no concern of mine.

"You're one of the twelve!" he remarked when he saw me.

"I most certainly am not!" I retorted.

Thinking perhaps my silence was arousing suspicion, I began making conversation with those around me. For roughly an hour, everything seemed to be going well.

"This man was definitely with Yehowshuwa!" one man told his friend. "I'd recognize an accent from Hagelilah anywhere!"

I responded with the most vehement burst of profanity in my life. Right in front of the high priest's home, I cursed and swore worse than I ever had while braving the perils of Kinneret for yet another night without fish.

My outburst was interrupted by the distant crowing of a rooster. A chill crept over my entire body.

The door opened, and I saw Yehowshuwa led out of the high priest's house. He gazed at me piteously. After what I had just done, he still had enough compassion that he wished to comfort me.

I could bear no more. I fled, too blinded by tears to see where I was going. When I stumbled over a loose stone, I shrieked and began beating the ground with my fists.

"Kephas."

I ignored whoever was speaking to me. Could he not see I was busy?

"Shimown!"

I groaned between sobs until I felt a sharp kick to my ribs.

"What do you want?" I demanded brusquely, tears still streaming down my face.

"It's me, little brother." Achina helped me to my feet. "We have to get you somewhere you can rest."

I tried to explain what had happened, but I was unable to speak. My brother led me into the house where we had been staying since our arrival in Yerushalayim, and I lay on the pallet filled with straw. Even this sorry excuse for a bed was not so wretched as I! Turning to the wall, I continued to weep.

"At least take some water," Achina coaxed.

"I don't want any."

"Shimown, you can barely breathe."

I accepted a cup of water only for the sake of making my brother stop talking. I then resumed staring at the wall as I shed tears.

After a while, Achina gripped my shoulder. "Did you hear the knock at the door?"

I shook my head. "Go away!"

"I can't leave you here, but I have to go see for myself. Yaaqov brings bad news about Yehudah."

"Who cares about Yehudah?" I shrieked.

My brother sighed. "Shimown, he's dead."

I sat up. "Dead?"

"Please. Come with me. You can wait at a distance if it bothers you."

I reluctantly followed my brother to where a small group had begun to gather. Hanging from the low branches of a tree was the body of Yehudah.

"Probably betrayed the rabbi in hopes of starting a war with Rome," Piynechac commented. "There were always people who thought Yehowshuwa's miracles should involve destroying all Romans."

"Poor Yehudah!" Thaddai wiped a tear from his own face. "He didn't allow himself to live long enough to experience God's forgiveness."

I shuddered at the broken neck of the young corpse. It could just as easily be me. I could die at the end of a rope. It would be fitting. After all, Abayi had always taught me that whoever hangs on a tree is accursed of God.

I had thought I would have time, perhaps several months, or even years, to decide what I would do next, but now I saw I had been mistaken. I had to choose now. Would I give up, hasten my deathbed, and accept the sentence of almighty God to the eternal torment I deserved, or would I fight for the courage to live, the courage to beg his forgiveness in humility, the hope that some sacrifice would be enough to atone for my grievous error?

Were there truly no other choices? Perhaps I could drown my sorrow in the drink, as so many members of Nathanael's family had done. I could slip away and forget…

No! I would not deny my wrong actions. I would face them. I would plead for mercy. I would accept punishment. I would do anything required of me, but I would deny my faults no longer.


	20. Chapter 20

I barely noticed the hours of darkness or the earthquakes. Achina was frightened by them, but I continued to lie in bed and mope.

"This isn't healthy!" my brother scolded. "Will you at least turn away from the wall?"

"I'm not in the mood for a lecture," I answered. "I wronged my friend. I denied God!"

"Shimown, we all have."

My curiosity got the better of me, and I turned to face my brother.

"When you commit an action you shouldn't, do you think your behavior proclaims him? When you use words he would never say, do you think your speech informs the world that you follow him?"

I groaned. "I'm worse than I thought! How am I ever going to prove my worth and earn his forgiveness?"

Achina tousled my hair, as he had often done when we were children. "You earn a pardon by your worth. Forgiveness is given freely, despite how unworthy one may be."

As much as it pained me to admit it, my brother's words held wisdom.

"Come see the moon. It's red as blood."

I opened the window, shuddering at the shadowed ruby in the night sky.

"The Sabbath began at sundown," Achina reminded me, "but when it ends, some ladies are going to wake up early and go anoint the Messiah's body. Afterwards, they'll let us know so we can pay our respects."

I nodded.

"The other men are going to meet us here. We should all be together until we figure out what we're going to do next."

We spent the most miserable Sabbath of our lives doing what we did best: moping pathetically and feeling sorry for ourselves. After all, it was the favorite pastime of all mankind.

"So you inherited your Aunt Miryam?" the Zealot asked.

Yowchanan nodded. He was even quieter than the rest of us because he was one of the few disciples who had been at the foot of the cross when Yehowshuwa breathed his last. He said very little about it except that he was unable to sleep because he kept having nightmares.

"What will we do?" Yaaqov the Younger wondered aloud. "Most of our reputations were shattered by leaving behind all we had to follow the rabbi. Mattityahu especially! The Romans will have nothing to do with him, and his fellow Jews never cared for him! What will he do?"

Mattityahu sighed. "I suppose God will show me in his own time."

"No need for any of us to go hungry," I remarked. "There are four fishermen in our group. If anyone else falls on hard times, our homes our open. We'll work something out."

"Thank you, Kephas." Thaddai gripped my shoulder. "You're a good man."

Achina smiled. "If you come for a visit, maybe my brother will prepare one of his famous rocks large enough to feed the whole Roman Empire."

I rolled my eyes. Was he ever going to stop giving me trouble about that rock?

"Do you think we'll be arrested as well?" Nathanael asked.

"Of course not!" Piynechac answered. "The Romans don't observe the Sabbath. If they were going to arrest us, they would have done it by now!"

"They would if they didn't wish to start a riot," Yaaqov reminded him. "Besides, we know for sure the Sanhedrin does."

I spent another sleepless night, pacing the rooms as often as I dared. I made every effort not to wake the other men, but I needn't have bothered. Every time I rose to pace as silently as I could, I noticed my friends were turning restlessly on their pallets or staring vacantly out the window.

"This is neither healthy nor wise," Piynechac finally remarked. "How about we take turns keeping watch while the others sleep?"

His suggestion was immediately met by a chorus of ten other voices declaring that they would take the first watch.

"Is this our punishment for falling asleep in the garden?" Yowchanan wondered aloud. "It wouldn't have changed anything, but it may have given him some comfort."

Yaaqov responded by punching his brother in the arm as hard as he could. "Is this the most appropriate time to discuss what happened?"

"You weren't there!" Yowchanan argued. "I may not have gotten out of the boat in faith like Kephas when he walked on water, but at least I was at the foot of the cross! My faith may have been slower to develop, but I was able to stand in my faith when it truly mattered!"

"Is this how it ends?" Thaddai asked. "We travel together for three years, and just when we're getting to be close friends with a common goal instead of strangers brought together by fate, we turn on each other and save the soldiers the trouble!"

During the fleeting moments when I was able to sleep, I was tormented by nightmares. In one dream, the altar of God was transformed into a cross, and the priests were Roman guards. After sacrificing the Passover lamb, they seized human victims and began butchering them alive. Innocent men. Young children. Women with babies.

There was so much blood that it flowed into the courtyard. It began rising like the floodwaters in the days of Noach, but the soldiers continued their gruesome sacrifice, cheered on by members of the Sanhedrin.

Suddenly, there was a deafening sound, harsher than the snarl of a wolf, and louder than rolling thunder. A massive lion appeared. At its shoulder, the animal was about as tall as the waist of a grown man. The lion had deep brown fur, and its ebony mane formed a thick cloak. Although its eyes burned fiercely like golden flames, there was also a cold darkness to them, adding to their ferocity.

The mutilated bodies of all who had been slain were instantly healed, and their lives were restored. They looked even healthier than they had before their demise.

A member of the Sanhedrin cross his arms and scowled. "You Romans and your lions! Why'd you release this one?"

The nearest soldier glared. "He did this himself, you idiot! We don't own him any more than you do!"

I awakened from my fitful sleep to someone knocking on the door. Although I muttered under my breath about who in their right mind would disturb a man when the sun was barely rising, I was grateful for the interruption.

When I opened the door, I saw Miryam standing before me. I wondered why it seemed half the women of the known world were named Miryam.

"Which Miryam are you?" I queried.

"He's gone!" she answered, tears streaming down her face. "Someone moved his body in the night!"

I sighed. "No one is going to move a corpse in the middle of the night, especially not one guarded by Roman soldiers, and when you consider it's the day after the Sabbath…"

"But he's gone! The man said so!"

I began rubbing the sides of my head to relieve the pain I was beginning to feel. "What man?"

"The one who rolled away the stone!"

"And what do the guards have to say about all this?"

"They fled!"

I frowned. Her story made less sense by the moment. Some stranger had waited until the sun went down on the Sabbath and frightened the guards so badly that they had deserted their post, a crime punishable by death. The mysterious stranger had then rolled away a heavy boulder and stolen the body of a rabbi who was either the Son of God or an absolute madman. Why would anyone even consider such unusual actions, let alone do them?

"Not here?" Yowchanan asked. "Kephas, do you think…?"

I didn't think. As was my lifelong habit, I acted before I gave myself time for thought.

A force I was unable to explain drew me to the tomb. My ankles began to ache, but I was unable to stop. I had to know what happened. I had to see for myself.

I had a vague memory of teachings the rabbi had prophesied. I had always assumed he was speaking figuratively, but what if his resurrection was of the physical body? Was it possible?

What if it was? I had disappointed him again. This time I had done far worse than all my previous disappointments combined. If he had resurrected, why would he associate with me? Even if he were willing to speak to me, what would I say to him? How could I apologize properly to someone I'd hurt so badly?

Seeing the tomb, I hesitated. The stone had been rolled away, but there was no trace of anyone. Perhaps there had been an earthquake that dislodged the boulder, and…

How long had Yowchanan been running beside me? Until I saw him run ahead of me toward the tomb, I hadn't even noticed his presence. I had always considered myself a bold man, but as I waited in trepidation, Yowchanan dared to enter the tomb.

"Kephas!"

Never before had I heard a man use that tone in his voice. It was a strange combination of emotions, simultaneously expressing fear and elation.

I pressed my lips firmly together to keep my jaw from trembling. Why should I be frightened? It was only a tomb. Everything died eventually. My boat was a tomb for fish. As for the body, it was only…

Gone!

"He's risen, Kephas!"

I sighed. "Whatever helps you sleep at night, Yowchanan."

While we walked back to the house, Yowchanan chattered excitedly about what Yehowshuwa's resurrection meant for the world. I ignored him. He was blatantly in denial. I, of all people, understood denial when I saw it.

"Find out anything?" Achina queried.

"The body's missing, and the shroud with it," I answered. "He's either risen, as Yowchanan seems to think, or someone's planned an elaborate scheme to confuse us all, as Miryam told us. Where's Taoma?"

"Out buying bread. What do we do now?" the Zealot wondered aloud.

Ever practical, Piynechac suggested we have some breakfast. We would then investigate the tomb together.

"That sounds like a great idea," a voice behind us remarked. "May I help you?"

The entire room fell into astonished silence as we all turned to see Yehowshuwa standing among us. How had he come into the room? None of us had heard or seen anything.

"Be at peace." He smiled warmly. "Don't be afraid."

We continued to stare in awe. He was truly flesh and blood, no mere apparition or wandering spirit.

"May I join you for breakfast?"

We remained silent as Yaaqov the Younger began preparing a plate. His hands trembled, and his eyes looked as if they would fall from his face at any moment.

So many questions! How had Yehowshuwa done this miracle? What did it mean for the world? Our lives were changed forever, but what would now become of us?

Shame pierced me like a thousand daggers. How could I explain what I had done? Even I didn't know what had come over me.

Perhaps I could wash his feet with my tears the way one woman had done. I was still trying to form words to beg for forgiveness when Yehowshuwa raised me to my feet and pulled me into an embrace, allowing me to weep on his shoulder like an infant.

"Draw near to me, Lord," I sobbed, "for I am a sinful man."

"My dear friend," he replied, hugging me closer, "my death was for all sins of mankind, but you see for yourself that I have defeated death."

He quickly ate breakfast, and after assuring us that he would see us again, he departed. As soon as Taoma returned, we all began speaking to him at once.

"You'll never believe who we saw!" Mattityahu exclaimed.

"Yehowshuwa was here!" Yowchanan added. "He ate with us!"

"You're right," Taoma remarked. "I don't believe it. As of this morning, you didn't believe it either. You were as skeptical as I am now."

He had several theories. Perhaps it was a ghost. Perhaps we had experienced a shared hallucination.

"The so-called hallucination caused Kephas to remain silent for many long moments!" the Zealot stated. "Surely that's enough of a miracle to convince you!"

I glared at him.

"You didn't believe until you saw him for yourselves," Taoma answered. "And now you expect me to? Let me tell you what really happened. While I was gone, you ten came up with a way to trick me. You'd all pretend he had visited you during my absence; then you'd watch me make a fool of myself. All we need now is for Kephas to deny his involvement!"

"I wasn't involved in planning a ruse," I responded, "but he was here. I'll proclaim his resurrection until the day of my own death!"

"When I see his scars, then we'll talk. How deep were they anyway? Deep enough to put your hand in?"

A week later, Yehowshuwa answered Taoma's question himself when he appeared among us again.

"See my hands?" he asked. "Here. Feel my side. Do you believe now?"

Taoma fell to his knees. "My Lord and my God!"

Yehowshuwa continued to dwell among us, so we all lived in peace and harmony for the rest of our days…and if you believe as much, I have a tropical island in Kinneret for sale at a very reasonable price. While he did keep his promise that he would never leave or forsake us, Yehowshuwa had never guaranteed that our lives would be easy. In fact, he had warned us that they wouldn't be.


	21. Chapter 21

We spent the next several weeks in Yerushalayim. More and more people began reporting that Yehowshuwa had appeared to them.

Once as he was speaking to us, a cloud began to cover him. At first I thought it was fog, but I soon realized it was a physical manifestation of the glory of God. Surely this cloud was the same that had come to rest over the temple in archaic times.

When his feet left the ground, we knew Yehowshuwa would no longer walk among us in physical form. However, he promised that he would send his spirit so we would not be without him.

Yehowshuwa had stated that when two or three gathered in his name, he was in their midst. Ten days after his ascension, we were all praying together: the eleven of us, a group of women who also believed, and several members of Yehowshuwa's earthly family. We were still an unusual assortment comprised primarily of outcasts, but we were united in prayer.

Suddenly, there was the sound of rushing wind. I immediately saw flames above every head in the room. Achina began speaking in a foreign language.

"I didn't know you spoke Median!" I gasped.

His own eyes widened. "When did you learn Gaulish?"

I soon realized that the language I spoke didn't matter. I could speak my native Aramaic, and everyone who had gathered still heard my words in their own tongue.

"Definitely full of wine!" one man remarked. "One of them is Nathanael Bar-Talmay, after all. Probably turned to the fruit of the vine like his brother."

Nathanael opened his mouth several times, but despite the miracle that allowed us to speak in any language, he was at a loss for words.

I, on the other hand, rarely had such a problem. Before I could stop myself, I flung open the nearest window.

"You fools!" I shouted. "Do you honestly believe we would consume enough wine to take leave of our senses at this time of day? The sun has risen only three hours ago!"

I heard a man's voice begin preaching, beginning with the words of the prophet Yoel. He spoke the truth about Yehowshuwa, the resurrected Messiah wrongly crucified as a common criminal, adding the words of the psalmist Dawid as evidence.

"What shall we do?" another voice anxiously demanded from the waiting crowd.

"Repent and be baptized, every last one of you!" the speaker concluded. "Receive the gift of the Holy Spirit!"

I leaned against the windowsill, panting for breath. What was wrong?

Achina lightly slapped my shoulder. "Praise God! You've finally used that fiery zeal of yours for good!"

"You denied Yehowshuwa before a few," Thaddai remarked, "but you've just proclaimed him before many."

Had I truly been the man who had addressed the crowd? I had once feared I would be crucified for declaring my beliefs, but now I was delighted to see they were receptive to my message. Over three thousand people confessed their newly found belief in Yehowshuwa!

We spent the rest of the day telling them what he had done for us and what we had seen him do for others. Every day brought new visitors to hear us speak of our Messiah.

Unfortunately, the religious leaders still hadn't given up their habit of persecuting people who tried to perform acts of kindness for others. As Yowchanan and I made our way to the temple one afternoon, we saw a beggar.

"Look at us," I instructed gently.

The beggar held out his hand for a coin.

"I have no silver or gold, but I will give you what I do have." I clasped his hand. "In the name of our Lord and God, Yehowshuwa of Netzer, rise and walk!"

As soon as I helped the beggar to his feet, he began leaping, praising God as tears of joy streamed down his face.

Noticing a crowd had begun to gather, I explained in no uncertain terms that we had not strengthened the bones of his ankles or aligned them properly by our own power. I told them of the prophecies concerning Yehowshuwa and how Yowchanan and I were witnesses to his ministry.

However, we were soon seized roughly by a group of religious leaders, who promptly threw us into jail. I hadn't realized it was illegal to help a lame beggar.

"Don't let them have the satisfaction," I told Yowchanan. "They're keeping us here to frighten us. They think if we remain chained to guards in this pit for long enough, they'll break our will."

He sighed. "It's so quiet! The only thing I can hear is the rats scurrying around!"

"We could sing," I suggested. "It will drown out the sound of the rats and remind us why we're here."

"Why is it that every time I'm with you, we get into trouble?" Yowchanan asked. "It's been like that since we were boys."

I chuckled. "What's your favorite psalm?"

When we were brought before the council the following day, I was filled with boldness once more. With Yowchanan's help, I preached salvation to the religious leaders.

I knew Yehowshuwa had kept his promise not to forsake us, for Yowchanan and I were released without punishment. The enemies of Yehowshuwa were confused, and they knew from our boldness that we had known the Messiah during his earthly ministry. Hostile examiners were forced to admit that a man had indeed been healed, and because of this miraculous healing, the number of believers nearly doubled in size. Above all, God was glorified. If only things had always been so easy!


	22. Chapter 22

We've all suffered imprisonment. We've all felt the searing fire of the lash slice strips of flesh from our backs. We've all felt hunger and fatigue from long hours of travel. We've all heard insults that stung nearly as bad as the lash.

However, we've all experienced miracles.

Piynechac once outran a chariot on foot. As a result, he was able to share the message of Yehowshuwa with a high official of the Ethiopian court.

I had a vision of a sheet of animals, clean and unclean. God was preparing my heart to do as Yehowshuwa had done: speak freely to all people without a thought of whether they were Jews or Gentiles. As a result, I consented to stay with a centurion as his honored guest. (Oh, the irony!) He too followed God, and he was most eager to hear about Yehowshuwa.

Paulus, a Pharisee who was also a Roman citizen, went from persecuting Christianity to preaching it. After his conversion, he spent the rest of his life planting and encouraging churches.

Some may say Yehudah was the first of us to fall since he hanged himself. Others would argue that the first martyr was Yehowshuwa himself, or even the bold Stephanos, who was beaten to death with stones.

Of the remaining disciples, Yaaqov died first. He met his death with a sword slicing the flesh, severing the muscles, and breaking the bones of his neck.

Yowchanan was never the same. He understood that his brother had gone to receive his reward in Paradise, but he would miss the companionship of the man he had known so closely since childhood. Without Yaaqov, Yowchanan no longer had his infamous bouts of temper. He was a quieter man, very tranquil and known for gentility. It seemed any fire within him died with his brother.

I would eventually come to understand his pain. I lost my own brother only a few years ago.

When he heard he was to be crucified, Achina had pleaded for mercy, not that his life may be spared, but that he should not die in the same manner as our Lord.

One of the soldiers assigned to carry out the execution drew his sword and used it to motion to a cross in the shape of an X. "That's a little different. Will that work for you?"

Achina smiled. "Perfectly! Well, lead on! I am eager to stretch out my arms and embrace the cross that shall escort me to my eternal reward!"

Two soldiers seized him by the arms. Although most men began struggling at the sight of the cross, Achina remained jubilant, never once resisting the guards.

Another soldier picked up a hammer.

"Not with this one!" the centurion ordered. "He wants to be different!"

Laughing, the soldiers tied my brother to the cross, where he remained for two days. They scarcely had time to make crude jokes about him, for Achina preached until he grew hoarse, and then he still continued speaking.

"Aren't you in pain?" one of the guards demanded.

"Does it matter?" Achina replied. "Yehowshuwa is still our Lord and God, whether I am in pain or not."

"Idiot!"

"You know, I used to insult a lot of people too before I met Yehowshuwa. Did I ever tell you about the time he gave us a miraculous catch of fish?"

"Only three different times in the past hour! Your voice is fading, old man! You should save your breath!"

"For what? I don't need it anymore."

The soldier groaned.

"Wouldn't it be funny if it took me between thirty and forty to die? That's about the time Yehowshuwa was dead before God resurrected him. Did I ever tell you about that miracle?"

Another soldier muttered something about how he'd fall on his own sword if he had to continue to listen to this incessant noise, but it only grew worse for them as the hours passed.

"I see him now!" Achina shouted in triumph. "Gentlemen, if you wish to know anything about Yehowshuwa, you must ask without delay! I won't be here much longer!"

The centurion rubbed his forehead, trying to relieve the pain. "Yehowshuwa, if you are real, please put this tormented fool out of our misery. His misery, I mean."

"Sir, did I ever tell you I learned a little Latin?"

"Hmm."

"Want to hear it?"

"Not particularly."

My brother's smile was too large for his face as he gazed peacefully at the clouds just beyond the hills and spoke his last words. " _Christus Dominus est!_ "

Unlike Yowchanan, the death of my brother did not make me taciturn. In fact, it caused me to grow even bolder. It was the only way I knew to honor his memory properly.

Taoma died of irony. He had once placed his hand over the scar where Yehowshuwa was stabbed with a spear. Tragically, he died when four spears pierced his own body. No doubt his death was painful, but at least it was quick.

Nathanael was flayed with a whip until he perished from blood loss. Witnesses said he screamed until he lost his voice entirely. He still shed tears as his torn flesh gradually exposed muscle and bone, but although he was no longer able to walk, he still lived.

When he finally took leave of this world, there were no last words or defiant facial expressions. His mass of flesh, no longer recognizable as human, stopped writhing when the lashes were administered. He looked around with eyes still reddened from tears, but the beating still continued. After several more strokes he was no longer able to feel, Nathanael's body became limp for several moments. There were a few final twitches, and he lay in the stillness of death.

Thaddai was bludgeoned to death. He screamed from the anguish of broken bones before he finally lost consciousness, only to awaken several moments later in even greater torment. His oppressors struck him again, causing blood to pour from his head, and Thaddai was finally able to retire from the cares of this world.

Mattityahu was stabbed to death. The man we had chosen to replace Yehudah was burned alive, the stench of his charred flesh as overpowering as his piteous shrieks. Yaaqov the Younger was thrown from the pinnacle of the temple, only to be beaten to death after surviving the fall. Shimown the Zealot was crucified.

As for me, I was arrested last month. I am an old man who has preached the message of his Lord for years. My wife and I traveled, uplifting one another in the ministry as we aged together. I have seen the beginning and growth of many churches. My purpose is fulfilled, so I am no longer afraid to die.

I thank God for giving me the courage to live and beg his forgiveness rather than meeting my demise at the end of a rope that claimed my youthful life. I also give thanks that I had the chance to perform one final act of kindness.


	23. Chapter 23

According to Roman custom, when a person is arrested, the prisoner is usually flogged as well. Yiskah and I were still bleeding from our wounds when we saw a boy dragged to the post.

"Have you gone mad?" I demanded. "He is only child!"

"He's old enough to steal!" the guard replied. "Now keep silent unless you want his reward!"

"I will not keep silent!" I argued. "Would you truly injure a mere child?"

"One more word, and you'll take his lashes for him!"

"Willingly!"

After all these years, I still hadn't learned to think before opening my mouth, and by the time the guard finished with me, I could barely move. The soldiers had to drag me by the arms to my dreary cell.

Yiskah gave me a kiss on the cheek. "That was very sweet of you, Shimown."

I took her hand. Although we had engaged in the occasional quarrel, as any married couple will do, Yiskah had been the ideal companion through the years. She was gentle as a lamb, but she had a hidden fire to her spirit, and when necessary, she would eagerly fan it into flame. I could never have fulfilled my ministry without her.

"I love you." I lightly squeezed her hand. "I wish they hadn't arrested you for my actions."

"I'm a grown woman, Shimown!" she argued. "I make my own decisions. I was arrested for my own actions." Yiskah put her head on my shoulder. "I love you too."

I began stroking my wife's hair. "Until death parts us."

"How?"

I frowned. In one word, she had made an entirely valid argument.

The guards rolled their eyes at our affectionate words.

Seeing movement out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the boy had also been thrown into our cell.

"We may have more peace if we get to know each other," I stated. "What is your name, young man?"

"Unwanted," he responded. "It's what everyone called me since my parents were sent to the arena three years ago."

"I'm sorry to hear that. What were you called before this tragedy?"

"Ashtad."

I nodded to show I understood. "I am Shimown Bar-Yonas."

Ashtad's eyes widened. "Shimown Kephas? The loud man who knew Yehowshuwa?"

Yiskah laughed behind her hand.

"The same," I admitted.

"They say you're a traitor!" Ashtad stated.

I shrugged. "I am loyal to the emperor."

"But you're more loyal to Yehowshuwa, right?"

I nodded.

"I'm here for theft. I took a bolt of silk from a Greek merchant. If I had sold it, I would have had food for several weeks. Now I guess I won't need food anymore."

The door opened, and a wealthy man entered the jail. He looked around at the prisoners until his eyes finally came to rest on our cell.

"That's the merchant," Ashtad explained.

"What punishment have you devised for this cunning thief?" the merchant demanded.

One of the guards shrugged. "Mine. Galleys. Execution. What's it to you?"

Another guard gasped in horror and began whispering to his colleague.

"I'm sorry sir," the first guard began. "I didn't realize I was in the presence of one of the wealthiest merchants in all Greece. There's not a soul in any country that borders the Mediterranean that isn't influenced by your prosperity! Is it true that the emperor has decided to grant you citizenship in celebration of your success?"

"Just a rumor," the merchant replied, "but what's it to me? I have enough wealthy citizens throwing themselves at my feet."

"What brings you to this putrid example of Tartarus?"

"I want the boy." He smiled kindly. "I know the child stole not out of avarice, but out of hunger. I'm told he has no family. If he's willing, my wife and I will raise him as our own son."

The guards released the boy, who stared in disbelief at the merchant.

"Aren't you angry with me?" Ashtad wondered aloud.

"I was at first, but I would never put a scrap of material over a human life. Come now. Let's get you some food."

The boy began crying.

"What's wrong?"

"I don't understand!" he sobbed. "First that nice man takes my punishment; then you forgive me! Why do you even want me?"

The merchant pulled Ashtad into a close embrace. When the boy had calmed himself a bit, the man turned toward me.

"I'll send for a physician," he promised. "It's the least I can do to repay your kindness. Pity my brother isn't here! He actually had the chance to learn a bit from the renowned Loukas himself!"

The remainder of my time in prison has been monotonous. I regale the guards with tales of my time with Yehowshuwa, even when they protest. I sing to pass the time and give hope to other prisoners.

My beloved Yiskah was liberated from this torture yesterday morning. Just before the guards took her away, I embraced my wife a final time.

"You shall soon be home, dearest one," I assured her. "Remember the Lord. He understands your pain, and he will help you endure. Your reward will be so great that you will forget this day and all others like it."

She pressed her lips against mine for several moments before she replied, "Even death cannot part us. I'll see you tomorrow, Shimown."

By the time evening fell, she had departed this world. I hope my brother has remembered to welcome her properly. Perhaps my mother-in-law has already prepared some manner of refreshment.

I slept for a few hours, but I am thankful to have awakened in the middle of the night, for now the scribe will have the chance to record my vision.

As I slept, I saw Yowchanan sent to the mines. He prayed healing over those who were injured and told them of Yehowshuwa to give them hope.

The dream changed, and I saw him screaming in a vat of boiling oil, writhing in unspeakable anguish, but still alive. As the emperor watched, he relented the sentence and exiled Yowchanan to a small island.

Time seemed to fade, and I saw future believers speaking a language I did not understand. Yehowshuwa appeared beside me and touched my ear, and I was at once fluent in their language. He then touched my brow, and I understood the different terms used for inventions in the future world, but not in my own.

A pastor stood behind the pulpit as he faced his congregation. Something about his face reminded me of the centurion's servant who had been healed so many years ago.

"Brothers and sisters," he began, "it is with a heavy heart that I announce that today will be our final meeting together. The church is splitting because we could not agree on whether the new carpet should be aquamarine or teal. A lot of feelings were hurt in the process, so to avoid taking sides, I have decided to step down from my role as pastor."

I could hardly believe what I was hearing. Would the future church truly quarrel so bitterly over petty matters? What about all the martyrs who sacrificed their lives? Did they die so people could avoid church for another hour of sleep and become easily offended rather than working together to compromise with each other?

"Let us sing our final hymn together as we go into the mission field," the pastor concluded.

While the song lyrics were beautiful, I was able to hear the words that were truly in the hearts of the congregation members:

" _Impoverished nation,_

 _The oppressed are blind from tears._

 _No liberation_

 _Have they ever known in years._

 _Lord, send a healer._

 _Broken hearts yearn to be free._

 _Send them a comfort, Lord._

 _Send anyone else but me!"_

I thought of all my friends who had been brutally murdered. Had they truly died so future Christians could sit at home and complain about each other?

The scene changed, and I saw a group of adolescents talking. Two were sitting on a couch, and the third sat on a nearby chair.

"It's not right!" the young man in the chair protested. "They feed babies to guard dogs in work camps just because the parents are Christians!"

"I'll tell you what's not right," the other boy responded. "If you're offended by any other religion, you're a jerk who doesn't accept people for who they are, but you're actually encouraged to be offended by Christianity. I have people cuss me out just because my books exist! I don't see what the big deal is. I don't believe in talking animals, but I still enjoy a bit of folklore. Why can't you just enjoy inspirational fiction for the sake of a good story, even if you don't believe in God?"

"They're going to write freedom of religion right out of the Constitution! Just give them time. They've already started!" The first boy sighed. "Is this how persecution begins?"

"I pray the Rapture happens before it gets much worse," the young woman remarked. "Most Christians are too busy judging each other to band together. Divide the herd, and you can pick off individual targets at leisure."

"You watch way too many nature documentaries, sis."

Yehowshuwa smiled as he watched the scene, his gaze falling to an envelope on the table.

"What is it?" I asked.

"They're mailing seeds to a country where people don't have enough to eat because of their dictator," he replied. "Last month, they mailed baby clothes to an orphanage."

Could it be true? In this strange future, were there still people who understood what it meant to show the compassion of our Lord?

"Do you know them?"

I stared intently at the youthful faces. "The two on the couch have similar features to the Celtic child you once blessed."

"And the one in the chair?"

"He looks as if he may have Samaritan ancestry."

The scene changed again. I saw younger children playing together on a playground.

One girl announced to the others. "Simon says touch your ears!"

The children touched their ears.

"Simon says touch your toes."

The children bent down and touched the ends of their shoes.

"Simon says, 'Even if all others forsake you, I will never deny you!'"

I rolled my eyes. Was the memory of my foolishness truly so amusing to future generations?

One woman sighed impatiently as she stumbled on the sidewalk, barely keeping herself upright. "Oh, for Pete's sake! Can I get through one day without a mishap?"

I frowned. "Do they always use my name that way?"

"You should hear the ways they use mine," Yehowshuwa answered. "We have one last place to visit."

I suddenly found myself inside a beautiful cathedral with stained glass windows that depicted scenes from the earthly ministry of Yehowshuwa. I marveled at the splendor until I saw a figure of an old man with a circle of light around his head and a fish in his hand. Under the figure was inscribed the name "St. Peter."

"This is madness!" I exclaimed. "I am no more holy than any other man. Are not all believers considered saints?"

My vision ended abruptly. When I tried to describe it to the guards, they dismissed it as a dream. Perhaps it was. After all, my mind has become duller with age.

In a few hours, I will stretch out my arms and cast my face to the ground in humility as I pray for a quick end to my suffering. I pray once more for the strength not to deny him as soon as I feel the pain of my execution, and I pray for the future church.

My friend, do I now bid you farewell forever, or shall we meet face to face someday?


End file.
